


Blood Sons: A Star Wars Story

by LyricStarWars



Series: Blood Sons (Star Wars) Canonverse [1]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars OC - Fandom, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, star wars original story - Fandom
Genre: Adult Content, Anal Sex, Clone War era, Clone Wars, Darth Sidious - Freeform, Darth Vader - Freeform, Disney, Disney Canon, Empire Era, Erotica, Eventual Sex, Gay, Gay Sex, Inquisitorious, Jedi, LGBTQ, LGBTQ Character, Light Side, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Mpreg, Mpreg Kink, Murder, Original Characters - Freeform, Pirates, Pregnant, Prophecy, Romance, Rough Sex, Self-Lubrication, Sexuality, Sith, Slash, Slash Fiction, Slow Burn, Star Wars - Freeform, Star Wars References, Star Wars Romance, The Clone Wars - Freeform, Violence, adult star wars, anakin - Freeform, canonverse, dark side, inquisitors - Freeform, m/m - Freeform, noncon, nonconsent, original - Freeform, pregnant kink, pregnant male, pregnant man, star wars erotica, star wars mpreg, the dark days
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 71,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricStarWars/pseuds/LyricStarWars
Summary: The stakes are high for Jedi Knight Tesran Hunt, a survivor of Order 66 and the Great Jedi Purge. The Republic has been transformed into the Galactic Empire and any remaining Jedi are being hunted by Darth Vader’s Inquisitorious, a cadre of merciless dark side Force-users. To make matters even more complicated, a child, Koda, has left Tesran’s hands tied – and the Empire wants them both dead.Kaasar, a male-dominated planet of primitive war-torn tribes, has fallen into the hands of the sinister Presark-King Uldr, who murdered his father and ousted his elder brother, Sindr, from the World Throne. Sindr must leave his world behind and venture into foreign stars if he hopes to ever return and seek revenge against his brother's treachery.An Imperial Inquisitor known as the Red Brother has been given a special task. Once a Jedi, now enslaved to the dark side, Red Brother must discover his origins if he is to please his Sith masters.Destinies collide as the curtain of the dark side falls across the galaxy.





	1. Prologue & Chapter One: Darkness Rises

**Author's Note:**

> This story is made to fit within "new canon" or "Disney canon" sources, with some Legend material and custom pieces to supplement as necessary. This is not an Alternative Universe story. It is written to conform and coincide with known Disney canon. Original characters are the predominate focus of the narrative with known Film/canon characters making brief appearances or mentioned in passing. This story contains 'mpreg' (male pregnancy) designed to fit within Star Wars lore by utilizing a custom species of near-humans, and features predominantly male/male pairings with sometimes graphic descriptions of sex. If this is jarring or offensive, please avoid reading BLOOD SONS.

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Tesran Hunt: Male. 21. Human. Jedi Knight, former Padawan of Das Vu Sae.  
Sindr: 22. Kaasari. Firstborn son of Talgr and heir to the World Throne of Kaasar.  
Ardr: 21. Kaasari. Secondborn son of Talgr. Kidnapped and given to the Jedi Temple. Inquisitor.  
Uldr: 20. Kaasari. Thirdborn son of Talgr. Usurper of the World Throne.  
Talgr: 39. Kaasari. Presark-King of Kaasar ruling from the World Throne.  
Lord Ravgr. The God-King of Kaasar.  
Koda: 5. Kaasari/Human. Kidnapped in infancy and given to the Jedi Temple.  
HE-R0: Female designation. Prototype ID Seeker droid. Assigned to Jedi Master Das Vu Sae.  
Das Vu Sae: Female 50+. Umbaran. Former Jedi Master and seeker of the Jedi Order. Sometimes archaeologist. Former master of Tesran Hunt.  
Hasler Jak: Female. 45. Human. Pirate Queen of Bygone. Former Jedi Master and archaeologist.  
Etreskl: Male. 48. Lew’elan. Former leader of the Torn Sor Kaa, now in self-exile.  
Bresaln: 23. Kaasari. Consort to the royal family. Pregnant with Volokr’s child.  
Haln: 19. Kaasari. Close friend and bedmate of Sindr and Uldr. Pregnant with Uldr’s child.  
Marevm: 25. Kaasari. Close friend of Sindr.  
Volokr: 29. Kaasari. Captain of the Presark Guard.  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PROLOGUE

The negative emotions swelling within Tesran made him feel nauseous. There was not a Jedi mantra, teaching, or trick that could possibly salvage the hopeless situation he had found himself in. He paced outside the closed doors of the Council chamber, sweating, wringing his hands. 

_This is bad,_ he thought. _Very,_ very _bad. They’ll kick me out of the Jedi Order … they’ll take away my lightsaber … I’ll never become a Jedi Knight…._ Tesran’s hands clenched and unclenched as he reflected on his actions back on Kaasar. What had been a simple research mission on a primitive planet in Wild Space had turned into something more. He had formed … attachments. And attachments were forbidden by the Jedi Code.

The council doors slid open revealing Tesran’s master, a slender Umbaran called Das Vu Sae. Her light brown robes were gathered about her form and her hands were studiously clasped together in front of her. The doors closed behind her, and master and apprentice stared at one another.

Tesran awaited his sentence with abated breath. “M-master?”

“The council will see you,” she said. “Remember, my Padawan: Be faithful, be true. They will know whether or not you’re lying.”

She led him inside where all twelve of the masters were situated in pod chairs lining the circular room. The transparisteel walls revealed Coruscant’s setting sun in the distance beyond the endless rows of skycars and towering buildings, all splashed in sunset orange. Tesran’s jitteriness continued for a moment as he stood alone in the center of the Council chamber. His master stood aside where they entered, leaving him utterly to the wolves.

The council members were not wolves, of course. But they were adherents to the Jedi Code, and they did not appreciate it when Jedi stepped outside of it. Like Tesran had. He could feel more than just the eyes of Depa Billaba, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Mace Windu, the grand master himself and all the others. The Force was a current, and part of it led through this very room, through these twelve masters. They were weighing him like a grocer weighs a meiloorun, he thought. Inspecting him for flaws; searching for reasons to cast him out of the Order forever.

_This is it,_ Tesran thought. _I’m a goner._

“I’m sorry, masters,” he began. His breath was coming unevenly from his chest as he spoke. “I know I did wrong. There is no excuse. I will make up for my failures, masters, I promise, just please don’t—”

It was Ki-Adi-Mundi who spoke first, interrupting the young Padawan. “You are nervous and afraid,” he stated in a gentle tone. His hands opened as if to show that he was harmless. “We are your friends and your teachers, young Tesran Hunt. You have nothing to fear from us.”

Depa Billaba lifted her chin slightly. “Complete your thought, young Padawan.”

“Don’t … kick me out, masters.” Tesran’s voice croaked — his doubts tightened his adolescent vocal cords, making every word sound hoarse. “Please.” They each exchanged a look with one another and then waited for him to continue. “I broke a vow I made to the Jedi Order. I made a … mistake.”

“Not just a vow made to the Order,” said Mace Windu sternly. His fingers were steepled against one another while he sat motionlessly in his chair. “But a vow made to yourself.”

“Y-yes, master….”

It was Yoda who next spoke. He stroked the white wisps of hair left to his chin. The old green master’s expression was hard to read, even with such expressively large eyes. His long knife ears lowered. “Young you are, Padawan Hunt. And confused, like all adolescents crossing into adulthood are.” He gestured at Tesran with one of his three green fingers. “A time of great temptation are the days of emerging maturity, _especially_ true this is for Jedi initiates. Different are you from those your age who are _not_ Jedi. Great responsibility, you have. Duty, yes. Commitment, yes, _yes_. A commitment not easily broken.”

“You have fathered a child,” Master Windu stated bluntly. “On a near-human Kaasari. And not just any Kaasari, but the heir of the planet Kaasar. More, you have formed a romantic attachment with him, as your master has explained to us.”

Tesran looked at his master, trying to scan her face, but as usual there was nothing to be gleaned from it. He understood why his master had informed the council about his mistake, but it didn’t diminish the sting of it, or that it felt like a betrayal.

“Betray you, your master did not,” said Yoda, his ears rising as he again pointed at the Padawan with one of this three fingers. Master Yoda, more than any other Jedi, had a knack for picking the minds of his students. “Betray _yourself_ , you did.”

Eeth Koth, a Zabrak with pronounced horns rising from his forehead and long black hair falling behind them and down his shoulders, was next to speak. “Jedi are forbidden to have families and yet you have done so. Attachment can be fatal to a Jedi’s commitment. What road will you now choose?”

Tesran bit his lip in further confusion. “Masters, I don’t understand,” he began. “I thought I was to be expelled. I am to have a choice?”

Yoda’s eyebrows raised. “Expelled, you thought? Expelled?” He shook his head and pursed his lips with amusement. “The first Jedi to break the rules, are you? Think you the only one in a thousand generations to make a mistake, hm? To sire a child? To fall in love, hmm?” He lifted his hands and swept the room with them. “Young each of us were, once, too. If expelled every initiate who made a mistake we did, _grow_ we would not. No Jedi would there be. No knights, nomasters, no Padawans!”

“We would have thrown Master Windu out years ago were that true,” smiled Ki-Adi-Mundi.

Mace Windu only grunted at the joke. His dark eyes turned back to Tesran. “Do not mistake our light tone, young Hunt. You have committed a grave error and have compromised yourself and your fellow Jedi. Attachment, as you have discovered, clouds one’s judgment. It is why we forbid it, so that we may stay focused on serving the needs of others — never the needs of ourselves, or the needs of those closest to us.”

“I understand, masters,” said Tesran. He had heard that last part a thousand times, of course, but it was the furthest thing from his mind when he and Sindr were trapped in that cold cave … when they were struggling to stay warm….

Eeth Koth leaned forward in his pod. “Will you choose to continue your training as a Jedi, forsaking all future familial attachments to both this young man and the unborn child; vowing never to see them again? Or will you—”

“—Leave the Order?” interrupted Tesran. “Never. The Order is the only family I have ever had. I want to continue my training. I want to be a Jedi Knight, to better serve the Republic.” It hurt him to say the words aloud. To choose the Jedi over Sindr and their child. But in front of a room full of highly intuitive Jedi masters, honesty was all he had. And, as young as he was, becoming a father was the furthest thing from his mind. He wanted to master the lightsaber, and move mountains with the Force, and travel the galaxy on behalf of the Republic spreading the seeds of peace and democracy wherever he and his master went. _Unfortunately, I spread the wrong seed_ , he thought. _But at least now I know difference?_ He wanted to be a Jedi knight, and one day a master. And if the Force willed it, to sit on the council.

There was no room for any of that as a civilian.

The council again shared looks with one another, then Master Yoda looked at Master Das Vu Sae.

The Umbaran stood forward and placed a hand on Tesran’s shoulder. “I will without hesitation be honored to continue his training. Tesran has proven himself to be powerful in the ways of the Force and a most excellent pupil. Though he is less mature than his clanmates of similar age, he has acted nobly many times in the past and has shown potential for great wisdom.”

Tesran blanched at the ‘less mature’ part. 

His master continued. “—has never lied to me before — except by omission.” She gave Tesran a stoney look. “And I wish to put all of this behind us so that we may continue our research in Kaasar.”

“Honor your wish, the Council does,” said the Grand Master, speaking for his peers. “Satisfied we are that put aside his feelings and attachments young Tesran has.”

“But,” said Master Windu to Vu Sae. “Your research of Kaasar’s vergence has been given over to Master Draesi for future study. You are to forward all data you’ve collected to her and assist in any introductions the Kaasari people might require.” His eyes returned to Tesran. “Your Padawan is never to return to Kaasar, for his own sake. The introductions, and any contact with the populace, must be done without him.”

Master Vu Sae bowed her head and Tesran followed her lead and did the same. “Thank you, masters,” she said evenly, though Tesran could sense her disappointment. Vu Sae had spent her whole life searching for and studying vergences in the Force, and just when she was assigned to one of the most powerful vergences she had ever encountered — the one that radiated through the entirety of Kaasar’s planet core — she was being taken off of it. 

_Because of me_ , Tesran thought. He was awash with guilt. His throat tightened again as he thanked the council and together exited the council chambers and walked in silence. He was suddenly painfully aware that Vu Sae could’ve, just moments ago, decided to choose another Padawan to train. If she had done so, she would have been able to freely continue her research.

“Thank you, Master,” said Tesran. “I’m sorry you were taken—”

“We don’t have to speak on this now, Padawan,” she said shortly. Tesran had the unmissable feeling that she was upset with him. “You should go to your quarters and meditate on what happened today.”

Tesran’s heart fell out of his chest as she turned and left him. He watched her walk away down the corridor, listening to the sound her boots made along the ancient flagstone. Her pure white hair seemed to almost glow. He had failed her, he thought. Failed her utterly. He felt tears sting his eyes before he could even attempt to get a hold on his emotions, as he was trained. He kept his head low as he hurried toward his private quarters, making sure the Jedi he passed couldn’t see the emotion on his face.

When he was safely alone with the door shut behind him, he tore off his brown tunic, wrapped it around his fist, and used it to punch the far wall. When his fist ached and his emotion was spent, he collapsed onto the small bed and let himself feel numb for a little while. Today, he had owned his failure. He rectified it by honoring his vow to the order, but he wondered if maybe by staying true to his vows, if he was failing Sindr and their unborn child. He had chosen one and rejected the other. A choice not easily made.

Slowly, he reached under the bed and produced a small holoprojector. As he laid his head on his arm, he activated the device and a miniature blue holoimage fizzled into life. It was a rotating holostill of a young man, handsome and tall. Though this holoprojector couldn’t capture color, Tesran would never allow himself to forget the rich brown curls of Sindr’s hair, or the bronzium-tone of his tanned skin. This holoimage had been captured by his master’s droid, HE-R0, while they were still on planet. Without his master’s knowing, Tesran had transferred this holostill from HE-R0’s data banks onto the projector and had kept it hidden since their abrupt departure from Kaasar. It was his prized possession — a possession he was not allowed to have.

Tesran manipulated the projector’s controls, zooming in on Sindr’s pregnant belly. It had already grown so round by the time Vu Sae had discovered what her sixteen year old Padawan had done. Late at night when they trysted in a tree pod Sindr had built far above the jungle floor, the two would lounge in the white glow of Kaasar’s six moons exploring each other’s bodies and minds. That they had conceived a child together was mystifying for Tesran, who had never expected to father any children at all because of his vows of celibacy. It had been a discovery in and of itself to learn that all Kaasari were male-identified unisexuals and had the ability to conceive, gestate, and birth children. Male pregnancy was interesting, yes, but not unique in a galaxy with billions of unique alien species. 

It was both mystifying _and_ scary when Sindr told Tesran he was pregnant. His reaction was a pure rush of excitement, fear, panic, joy … all of it. But mostly panic. In all honesty, his first thought was how he would avoid telling his master, whom he shared most of his burdens with. As it turned out, telling her had proven too difficult, and so he never did. Whether it was out of fear of being thrown out of the order or fear of disappointing her, Tesran decided that his growing love for Sindr was not something Master Vu Sae needed to know … at that moment, anyway. Of course, she found out regardless, as all masters do when their apprentices are hiding something.

As he stared at Sindr and his perfect round belly, with the most adorable navel protruding from its apex, Tesran suddenly felt a tremendous wave of loss crash over him. _I’ll never be there for them_ , he thought glumly. _I chose the Jedi. But … but it doesn’t mean I won’t choose differently one day. Perhaps when I’m older and a knight, I’ll go back and see them._ It was a sobering thought to think that by then, maybe his child would be as old as he is now … and the heir to an entire planet.

Tesran was hardly aware of his eyes growing heavy as he stared at Sindr’s rotating holoimage. He began to dream of Kaasar and its vast, immense jungles and all the dangers that lurked within. In his mind, he was there again, reunited with the most handsome man he had ever seen, dancing around the massive fire at the foot of the ziggurat in the Kaasari mode of jubilee: half-naked with runes painted on his bare skin, arms flailing wildly with the rhythms of the drums. If there was one true thing about Tesran, it was that he had no shame and had no quarrels with having a bit of fun (unlike most Jedi who acted as though fun was borne of the dark side itself). Perhaps it was that _bit_ of fun that had led to another miniaturized Tesran soon to be running about.

The dream shifted and Tesran and Sindr were laying as one as they had in their final days together. Tesran could feel their son within Sindr’s belly, moving this way and that beneath his idle hand. He was so strong already. A tiny beacon in the Force. “ _Come back to us_ ,” Sindr’s voice whispered. “ _You will miss his birth. Won’t you come back? Don’t you want to hold your son?_ ”

“ _I can’t_ ,” replied Tesran, feeling the dream world shrinking as he said it. “ _I made a vow…._ ”

“ _We’re not important to you_?” Sindr maneuvered in the bed to look at him. They were in the tree pod alone with the moonlight.

“ _You are, it’s just…._ ”

“ _When you achieve your dreams_ ,” said Sindr, gentle and sad. “ _Will you come back to us then_?”

“ _Yes!_ ” said Tesran with absolute certainty. “ _And I will make up for every day that I wa_ s—” The dream shifted again. Sindr and their unborn child fell upward, while he found himself falling the other way. Falling, falling, until this time he was standing over his own sleeping body. The holoprojector was laying on the bed with Sindr’s holo still rotating above it. “ _I’m dreaming of myself dreaming_ ,” Tesran realized lucidly as he studied how conflicted he looked as he slept. There was a commotion outside of his room, and so his incorporeal form drifted through the door and found…

…Chaos.

There were fires burning everywhere. Collapsed corridors wracked with detonations. White-armored blurs moving through the halls firing wildly with their blasters. Who were these armored people and why were they storming the Temple? He felt the heat of plasma pierce his dreaming form, skewered painlessly through the stomach. He looked down at the blue blade emerging from his guts, and then turned to see ….

Tesran awoke with a start, sweating. The incandescent light was on, casting the room in low tones. He jumped as he realized someone was in the room with him.

“Skywalker?” he said, seeing the boy crouched beside him with the holoprojector of Sindr in-hand. 

“Who’s this?” he asked. His Padawan braid hung loosely over his shoulder. He and Anakin were fast friends even despite being assigned to different youngling clans. Anakin was older by a few years. They were both headstrong and at the top of their respective classes, though Anakin had better marks than any other initiate in the Temple, including many of the older ones. And despite Tesran’s own gifts, Skywalker was an unmatched duelist and immensely powerful in the Force. More so than Tesran could ever hope to be.

“Give it back,” said Tesran, trying to snatch it away from his friend’s grasp. “That’s not yours.”

But Anakin was quick. He stood and held out a hand to keep Tesran away. “You’re not allowed to have this, are you?” he asked, turning the device in his hands as he stared at the projected image. “What’s with the stomach? Is he pregnant?” Anakin looked at him. “What species is he?”

“He’s near-human,” said Tesran, rising to his feet, unwilling to give any more information about the man he loved.

“Oh, aren’t these the people you and your master have been studying?” said Anakin, tossing the holoprojector back to his friend. “Boring!” And just like that, the matter was forgotten. “Get dressed, let’s head to the Padawan’s dojo.” Skywalker grinned mercilessly as his friend — the way a victor gloats over a rival. “My master taught me a new move I wanna try.What do you say?”

“So, you want me to spar with you and lose for the billionth time?” said Tesran, pulling a tunic over his head. It was true. Tesran only won when Skywalker let him, which was rare enough. But, like Skywalker, Tesran also had aggressions that needed to be released, and sparring with lightsabers was the best way to blow off steam. “ _Sure_ , why not?”

“Ardr’s joining us, too,” Skywalker said, giving Tesran’s shoulder a playful shove. “I’ll even duel both of you at the same time with one hand tied behind my back, that way you guys will at least have _some_ chance of beating me.”  
“Oh, how _generous_ ,” Tesran said sarcastically. “Really does a lot for my pride.”

Tesran slid the holoprojector beneath his bed before they left, setting aside Sindr and the life together they would never have.

____________________________ 

ACT I  
CHAPTER ONE  
DARKNESS RISES  
Five years later.

_It was all falling apart_ , Sindr thought. How it had come to this moment he could not say. There was no anticipating it. The warning signs had been there, but it was impossible to think it could have gone this far … that his brother’s madness had led to the unthinkable. The ziggurat-shaped palace was under siege from within. Blood painted every ancient stone in every corridor. He feared by sunrise there would be rivers of it pouring down each level, spilling out from the terraces like a river of blood.

His two friends — those loyal two — followed his every step as they came to the threshold of the next corridor. Moonlight struck through the open-air palace filling the long corridor with pale blues and whites, and created shadows for the men to move through. Sindr discreetly peered around the corner and saw six palace guardians running at their location from the far end. Behind them the way they came was a flurry of echoing voices that grew louder with every passing second.

“Sindr,” whispered Haln, Sindr’s closest of friends. “Ten and counting coming down the stairs.”

“Six at the far end of the hall,” answered Sindr. “We’re about to be surrounded.”

Marevm, a hulking Kaasari from the Bakaln clan, pointed toward the windows. “We could jump.”

“From this height?” said Haln incredulously.

“There are no rocks in the water below,” said Marevm. “We have jumped from higher cliffs as kids, remember?”

“Haln is with child,” said Sindr. “It’s a risk.”

Marevm looked at Haln with a raised brow. “I thought he was just getting fat.” He blew out a huff of air. “I will jump first then. If I survive it, then you can all follow.”

“That’s the worse plan I’ve ever heard.” Sindr shook his head. “It’ll be easy enough killing the six coming down the corridor between the three of us,” said Sindr. “If we can move down to the next floor, we can make the same jump from less distance.”

They all agreed. By now, the six guards were halfway down the corridor and Sindr gave a silent gesture. They each prepared their Katarri energy bows and at the count of two, they rounded the corner, aimed, and fired.

_Thvung, thvung, thvung!_

Their shots brought three of them down instantly, and the three that followed them stumbled over the fresh corpses, stalling them long enough for Sindr and company to pull back on the energy strings once more.

_Thvung, thvung, thvung!_

Their bodies hadn’t hit the floor before Sindr was leading them over the fresh corpses and down a flight of stairs. The voices behind them grew distant, but then there were voices ahead of them now. _Curse it all_ , he thought. They stopped at the base of the stairs where the ancient stone stairwell adjoined a corridor much like the one above it and risked a glance in either direction. More guardians. Dozens of them were on patrol. The entire floor was locked down. _Curse you Uldr,_ he thought. His brother was tightening the noose, as the starborn humans liked to say. The open windows of this level were mere meters away directly in front of them.

“If we’re quick enough, we can each jump through a window,” said Sindr.

Of the three, Marevm was the largest. He was one singular mass of muscle, a distinct quality of Bakaln clan. “I forgot the windows on this floor are smaller,” he said. “I don’t know if I will fit through.”

“You will,” said Sindr, but now he was uncertain himself. “You will….” Voices echoed down the stairwell behind them, mere seconds away. “We have to jump. Now.”

Marevm nodded at him and Haln looked determined.

“One … Two!”

The three of them charged forward into the moonlight cast from the window. For that brief second in which they were exposed amid the hall, the guards were already drawing their energy bows and firing. Hot plasma curled through the air between them, sizzling loose strands of Sindr’s brown curls. Haln dove through the window effortlessly, like a tharroc soaring into flight. Almost at the same time, Sindr was flying and falling through the air, diving in perfect form toward the waters below. They both crashed simultaneously into the cold water, slicing down into its depths propelled by their speed and grace. The chill of the water threatened to steal Sindr’s breath, and though it was dark beneath the surface, the moonlight from the six moons created shafts of light to see by. Adrenaline pumped through him, fueling his determination to escape. To survive. 

When they came up for air, Marevm wasn’t beside them.

With rising terror, Sindr looked up at the ziggurat that towered so far above them at the windows in which they had launched themselves from — and saw Marevm’s bulk being pulled back into the palace from the window. “Marevm,” he whispered. “No….”

“Come, Sin,” Haln urged as he swam closer. “We must go.”

Even as he said it, bolts of plasma began piercing the water beside them as the traitorous guardians lined the windows with their energy bows. There were so many firing down at them that for a moment it seemed like it were raining fire.

“DOWN!” Sindr screamed, and the two men dived as plasma speared after them, piercing the water a meter beneath the surface before the bolts lost their heat and momentum and fizzled into nothing. They had spent much of their lives swimming in this lake that they knew exactly where they were, even as they held their breaths for minutes at a time, until they surfaced at the far end of the lake. They had to hurry. Even now Sindr knew that his brother was mustering the Windriders to begin their search from the air.

They crawled onto the bank, winded and exhausted. Sindr spared only a moment to look back from where they had came. The ziggurat’s windows were filled with crystalline lights now and, just as Sindr predicted, there were already a half a dozen tharroc riders combing the shores of the lake, riding on the winds created by the waterfalls.

They maneuvered out of the mud and toward the edge of the jungle all the while Haln gathered a large fern to cover their tracks with. The night sounds of Kaasar were deafening. A thousand different species of insects were singing along with a thousand different species of birds. Somewhere a ring of casarc were caterwauling in triumph after a successful hunt. This was a planet where even the strongest hunters and warriors could easily fall prey to any number of predators in the wild, and if they weren’t careful, fall prey to the jungle itself. Quicksand. Sinkholes. Half-sentient man-eating plants. Cannibals. Sindr had a healthy fear of all these things, as every Kaasari did.

Without a word to each other, Sindr and Haln began climbing the nearest tree.

___________________

Tesran’s sweat was cold on his hot skin. His eyes were wide, his fingers clenched tightly around his humming lightsaber.

The Jedi taught him to manage fear, to be aware of the darkness that stemmed from it. Fear itself was the enemy of hope, and hope was the pillar that upheld the galaxy. He was taught to be mindful of his feelings lest they betray him, but the Jedi who preached wisdom such as these were dead and dying. He watched dozens of them die in the last ten minutes alone. The sudden and inexplicable demise of so many of his brothers and sisters left a paralyzing breach in his soul, and all the fear — all the confusion, anger, sadness — was bleeding inward into that same breach, choking him from the inside out.

He deflected a blaster bolt with his lightsaber, keeping a firm grip on the hilt as the shot scattered against a far wall. He reflected a blaster bolt from one clone into the white plastoid armor of another, which left a burning hole dead center chest. Tesran Hunt was enmeshed in the Force, allowing it to guide his every reflex. He saw it mere milliseconds before it happened: A bolt to the right arm, another to his left leg. The lightsaber in his hand intercepted the first, and then the second. Even before the next shot fired, Tesran maneuvered the two small younglings in his charge forward and stepped to shield them, putting himself between the girls and the clones that were even now squeezing the trigger of their blaster rifles. Tesran knew where the bolts would land, and he reflected them back toward their source.

The helmet of one of the clones blew off in the blast, and the clone Tesran knew personally as ‘Colo’ fell backward, his rifle firing blindly up at the ceiling on his way toward death. Many couldn’t physically tell the difference between the clone troopers; each of them were carbon copies of their brothers beside them except for tattoos, scars, and other individuating markings. Personality wise, however, no clone was the same. Colo had been a friend and fellow patriot of the Republic. He earned his nickname for his love of colo claw fish. The clone had once eaten buckets of it without batting an eye when they were stationed close to Naboo, and that wasn’t an exaggeration — Tesran had watched in amazement as Colo stuffed his face, and remembered thinking that the recreation attire he wore might give at any moment. Much to Colo’s sadness, colo clawfish was a rare delicacy in the galaxy, and he never had the opportunity taste it again. But the nickname stuck.

Colo was a soldier of the 501st, an elite military division of clone troopers serving under General Anakin Skywalker. And like the other clones, Colo betrayed him.

Once a friend, now an enemy. A dead enemy.

_But why is the 501st here? Why are they attacking us?_ he thought, and wondered if Anakin was here as well. The thought gave him hope and drove him to fight harder. Anakin Skywalker was the best of them, and if he was here to help, then they just might survive this. 

The entrance into one of the Jedi Temple’s smaller hangars was guarded by a squad of clones, but before they could see Tesran and the two younglings coming, the Jedi threw his lightsaber through the air in a deadly, rotating arc and with its violent spin decapitated all four of them. As Tesran summoned his lightsaber back to his hand, he led the children through the maze of bodies and heads as the hangar door slid open before them…

…To reveal chaos. It reminded him of a dream he had years ago that was uncannily like this.

In the hangar three Jedi were completely surrounded by several squadrons of clones. They fought back to back, deflecting and returning blaster bolts, creating a near-impenetrable wall of defense. In between the Jedi’s legs, nestled like an egg, was another youngling even younger than the two Tesran rescued from the temple’s medical facilities. Tesran knew that youngling: his name was Koda, a blonde little boy Tesran had once played tag with in the temple training garden beneath the uneti tree. 

It was evident the Jedi were trying to reach the _Silverdark_ , Master Das Vu Sae’s modified starship — though Vu Sae was nowhere to be seen. It seemed the Jedi had been ambushed before they could reach it. _This whole place has become a death trap_ , Tesran thought, feeling that cold fear rising in his chest.

The younglings were looking up at him, he realized. They were _relying_ on him. And if he let his fear swallow him now, they were all doomed. He swallowed the lump in his throat and lent himself to the Force, allowing it to embolden him with strength and purpose. “Stay behind me,” he told them, and they nodded and moved into position behind his legs. These younglings were tough, he thought, even though he could sense their fear. Tesran was afraid, too. It was fear that was currently keeping them all alive; the greatest paradox of his entire life.

Tesran stood forward and raised his voice as his blue lightsaber hummed in his hands. “Hey, traitors!” he shouted at the clones. “Over here!”

A dozen blasters turned to aim at him, and in that invaluable moment of distraction, the three surrounded Jedi were given an opportunity — and they used it, pushing outward with their hands. The squadrons of clone troopers flew through the air like leaves caught in a hurricane as the Force rippled outward. 

The three Jedi consisted of a master, a knight, and a young Padawan learner. Master Groko was a green Twi’lek renowned for his tireless efforts in the war, and the knight Tesran recognized as Clra Un, a human. Tesran wasn’t acquainted with the young Padawan learner. 

The Jedi and the younglings converged in the center of the hangar.

“Master Tesran!” Koda, the youngling, shouted gleefully. He wrapped his arms around Tesran’s leg as he approached. Tesran knelt, inspecting the youngling for injury. 

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice tiny and strained.

“Tesran,” said Master Groko by way of greeting. He, like all of them, was sweating and exhausted. “It is good to see another survivor.”

“What’s happening, Master Groko?” asked Tesran as they hurriedly made their way toward the _Silverdark,_ though their pace was slowed by the frightened younglings whom they corralled. They were yet several dozen meters away from the ship’s ramp. “I lost contact with my master. It seems they’re jamming the temple’s communications. Where is the council? Are they rallying the Jedi somewhere for a counter defense?”

The old Jedi Master ignored him as he turned toward his adolescent Padawan. “Tate,” said Groko as he clutched his abdomen. Tesran realized the man was bleeding. 

“Yes, Master?”

“Get to the control room and open the hangar bay doors,” said the elder Twi’lek gently. “If we are to escape in Master Vu Sae’s starship, we’ll need the bay doors open, won’t we?” As the Padawan nodded and ran full sprint across the bay, Groko addressed Tesran without looking at him. “I fear it is too late for a defense. We are caught up in a grand plot to destroy the Jedi. And I fear we have already lost.” 

The Sith. The resurgence of the Jedi’s ancient enemy over a decade ago had been a shocking turn of events. First Darth Maul, then Count Dooku, who in the latter days of the Clone Wars was revealed to be the Sith Lord named Darth Tyranus. Though the threat of those Sith Lords had been ended by the Jedi, there was yet still another at large; a conductor of a vast orchestra whose dark music could be heard even now as the Jedi Order collapsed. The dark lord of the Sith that had been the master of Maul and Dooku; the one the Jedi had been hunting.

“We met with your former master,” said Groko. “She guided us here toward her ship.”

“She’s well then?” asked Tesran anxiously.

“She will join us before we depart, Force willing.”

Tesran sensed that his Umbaran master had stayed behind to try to save as many beings as possible. It would be just like her to do so. Still, he couldn’t help but wish that Das Vu Sae would prioritize her own life, just this once.

“What part of the temple did you come from?” said Groko as the large mechanized hangar bays began to part, thanks to Padawan Tate. Groko, Tesran, Clra and the three younglings approached the starship’s ramp.

“The medical wing,” said Tesran. “I was awoken from a bacta tank … to all this.”

“And these two younglings were all you could save?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Groko looked pained, and Tesran sensed that his blaster wound wasn’t the source of it.

“Can you feel the growing silence?” The Twi’lek asked. “The darkness rising to—”

Master Groko suddenly began to sputter as though an invisible snake had coiled around his throat. They stopped, alarmed as Groko’s neck twisted in an unnatural fashion and snapped with a guttural _kkkrkkk_ sound clicking in the Twi’lek’s throat. As the Jedi Master collapsed dead, Clra Un and Tesran turned to see a dark shadow standing some fifteen meters off. The shadow was cowled in black, its face hidden in the depths of a hood. A cold sensation gripped Tesran’s heart as the figure drew a lightsaber and activated it. A blue energy beam unfurled from its emitter.

“Get into the ship, younglings!” shouted Clra Un, ushering them swiftly up into the belly of the _Silverdark_. “Go, go!”

Tesran activated his lightsaber. The Force warned him of something deeply awry, even as the shadow removed his hood.

“Skywalker!” shouted Tesran, his heart filling with relief. Anakin Skywalker was a legend, loved and known by all for his heroic efforts during the war. He even served on the Council despite not holding the rank of master, demonstrating just how much the Council and the Supreme Chancellor valued his skill. _He’s here to fix this_ , Tesran thought. _The Hero With No Fear_. That’s what the Republic had come to call their foremost champion against the Separatists. He had known Anakin for almost his entire life, both being of similar age, and had been fast friends. How many nights had he, Ardr, and Anakin spent in the Padawan’s dojo, battling each other for supremacy and sweating out their aggressions with heated duels?

But the advent of the Clone War had thrown them to opposite ends of the galaxy and Tesran hadn’t seen his old friend in a year or more. His hair was longer now — his eyes darker. The war had changed them both, it seemed. Though Tesran sensed it had changed Anakin for the worse….

Though Tesran was glad to see his old friend, he strangely found himself unwilling to deactivate his weapon.

In stormed the 501st behind Skywalker, their blasters raised. 

“Watch out, Anakin!” Tesran yelled, but the clones didn’t aim at Anakin; they aimed at someone else.

Padawan Tate flew from the hangar’s control center as fast as he could, his legs taking him on a straight path toward the _Silverdark_ , but there were many meters to go.

“Tate!” Clra Un shouted in warning.

The Padawan’s green lightsaber sung to life in time to deflect a hale of blaster bolts, but the storm of incoming fire broke through his defense. The adolescent’s body fell, smoking. Dead.

Skywalker watched. He didn’t call off his troopers, or try to warn the Padawan, or even react in any way, except for a dark glint in his smoldering yellow eyes. When did his eyes turn … yellow?

Somehow, someway, this was _not_ the Anakin Tesran knew.

“Clra, get the ship up and running,” said Tesran, his voice dropping into a stern octave as he prepared for the worst. “I have the ramp.”

Clra Un nodded, giving Skywalker one last look before disappearing into the _Silverdark’s_ hold. She, too, sensed something off.

As Skywalker approached, what appeared to be a little metal jellyfish droid darted past Tesran and flew up through the starship’s ramp. His heart lifted at the sight of his master’s droid, HE-R0. Wherever HE-R0 was, Master Das Vu Sae would be nearby. The starship roared to life moments later. No doubt the droid and Clra Un were at the cockpit bringing the flight systems online.

The clone troopers halted their advance at some unseen command as Skywalker alone came forward, his blue lightsaber angling into an offensive stance. He and Tesran stood several meters apart, and in the space between them the Force quivered with cold, dark currents.

At the foot of the ramp, Tesran prepared himself to once again spar with his former friend, though this time the stakes would be real. “Anakin,” he said, a tired note betraying his exhaustion. “Why are you doing this? What have you done?”

The Jedi knight said nothing.

A dark cast hung over his face; a glimmer of malicious determination in his once bright eyes.

Tesran took a step back. The heel of his foot pressed against the ramp. His instincts told him to flee into the ship and fly away from here as fast as he could, but the ramp needed to be guarded until they lifted off. The protection of Clra and the three younglings fell solely on his shoulders. He flourished his lightsaber, its blade _z-vvvmmm_ ing through the air. 

If he had to duel his friend and sacrifice himself to save the others, so be it. He surrendered himself to the Force completely.

But Skywalker had no intention of clashing blades. The fallen Jedi raised his hand, forefinger and thumb turning into talons. The dark side struck Tesran like a viper. His neck tightened, squeezed, forcibly shutting his windpipe with painful agony. The air trapped in his lungs burned and his esophagus clicked and sputtered as it threatened to fold under the weight of the Force. 

Under the weight of the _dark side_.

“Ana…kin….”

No. Not Anakin. 

This man, this monster who was once his friend was now someone else. Someone cold and sinister. Evil.

Tesran’s lightsaber deactivated in his limp hand and clattered to the tarmac as he was lifted slowly from his feet and suspended in the air. He felt like he was drowning beneath the swampy waters of Hexxis again, looking up through the murk as his lungs filled with water. Then, too, he had been surrounded by foes behind enemy lines. He still felt the explosion at his back, still remembered the pain and heaviness in his lungs when he awoke underwater, drowning. This time, however, there was no liquid — only the flood of the dark side.

His vision began to spot and slowly darken. He thought of Sindr. Of their child. A child five years of age now; a tiny human he had played a small part in creating. A son he would never get the chance to meet. The thought, like his own life force, began to dim. His face reddened, his eyes bulged as a tear squeezed from his eye. Every muscle in his face extruded and strained as he conjured one last, final thought of Sindr; one burst of light before the darkness overcame him.

But the darkness never came. It dispersed and fled as a white piece of torn cloth fluttered down from the gantries like a dove searching for a place to land. But it was no cloth nor dove — it was the slight figure of an Umbaran Jedi Master alighting in front of Tesran, garbed in white with silver wings; wings Tesran, in his darkening vision, realized were her tattered robes. She shrugged off the blackened and burnt cloak and stood tall. She was slender like a dagger, and her body bore evidence of a recent struggle.

The stranglehold broke and Tesran crumpled onto the ramp, clutching his throat as he heaved air back into his lungs. With blurry eyes, Tesran watched Jedi Master Das Vu Sae point outward with either hands, two fingers extended, and bring her palms together. Screeching sounds accompanied the sudden animation of LAAT transports and interceptor starfighters as they slid and flew wildly toward the center of the room, colliding in a brilliant explosion, taking a majority of the clone battalion with it.

Das afforded Tesran a brief sideways glance as he lay stretched out on the ramp.

_Master_ , he tried to say, but no sound would come from his bruised throat. _Master, come with us! Please … I need you!_

The _Silverdark_ quivered beneath Tesran as the repulsorlifts jostled the ship from the ground and a meter into the air. He clung to the ramp as it began to retract into the starship, bringing him along with it.

_Master!_

Das Vu Sae smiled at him. “The Force goes with you, my Padawan _._ ”

The ship skimmed from the wreckage of the hangar and toward the hangar’s wide exit. With an outstretched hand, Tesran used the Force to recall his lightsaber back into his palm. He wanted to tell her how much he cared for her, how she was like a mother to him. The most wonderful master a Padawan could ever have. But it was too late.

Skywalker and Das Vu Sae began their duel; his blue blade matched against her twin white sabers. Already she was dancing in circles around her enemy in a match-up Tesran thought he’d never see: Master Vu Sae against the Chosen One.

_Was this what he had been chosen for?_ Tesran thought weakly. _To bring an end to everyone and everything?_

The starship ascended into the Coruscanti night, over the crowded skyway traffic and toward the stars. The Jedi Temple burned below them like a pyre for the Republic. It was no easy feat freeing themselves from Coruscant’s lockdown, but the Force was with them, moving them forward, creating an escape where there was none. 

Tesran collapsed against the interior corridor of the ship, mind reeling, heart spinning. But his grief was only just the beginning: in the corridor with him were the corpses of the two girls; the younglings he saved from the temple’s destruction. Younglings he _failed_ to save. Beside them was Clra’s body, checkered with blaster fire. The hilt of her lightsaber was still clutched in her hand. A single clone trooper lay dead in the open hatchway leading to the cockpit with a fatal plasma wound across his torso. It appeared that Clra and the trooper killed one another in a brief struggle.

The clone trooper must have infiltrated the starship long before the Jedi had arrived into the hangar. Waiting for one of them to enter. Waiting to cut one down as they made their escape. He got what he wanted and more. Tesran found it unbearable to even look at the tiny, innocent children, yet look at them he did, if only to mark his own failure.

Tesran crawled to them. His grief was too much, too heavy to carry with legs and feet. With a gentle hand, he closed the eyes of the younglings as tears streamed freely down his face, and brought Clra’s hands to rest peacefully on her chest, lightsaber clutched within them, where it belonged.

During hard times, Tesran always tried to find humor — to find a moment of levity upon which to lean. But there was none. Not now. Not in the last three years of the war. Maybe not ever again, he thought. He felt the starship lurch into hyperspace, into the infinite galaxy that would change forever after the events that had taken place here. 

As he sat on his knees with his face buried hopelessly in his hands, a noise came from one of the cabins. He raised his head wearily and opened his eyes to find the blonde child, Koda, standing in the doorway. He was disheveled and shaken but otherwise unhurt.

Tesran began to sob with relief at the sight of the boy.

Koda came closer and wrapped his tiny arms around Tesran’s neck. The youngling was trying to comfort him, he realized. This boy of no more than five years of age was trying to comfort _him,_ a grown man. Tesran slowly returned the gesture, thanking the Force that he had not failed the younglings and Clra entirely. There was hope, he thought. But he quickly dismissed the notion that there could be any hope left in the galaxy after what happened today. Hope was dead.

The Clone Wars ended that day. They lost the war. The Republic died. The Jedi were gone.

The only thing that remained for Tesran, Koda, and HE-R0 was survival at all cost.


	2. Abadn's Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sindr flees to Abadn's Gate with Uldr hot on his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is made to fit within "new canon" or "Disney canon" sources, with some Legend material and custom pieces to supplement as necessary. This is not an Alternative Universe story. It is written to conform and coincide with known Disney canon. Original characters are the predominate focus of the narrative with known Film/canon characters making brief appearances or mentioned in passing. This story contains 'mpreg' (male pregnancy) designed to fit within Star Wars lore by utilizing a custom species of near-humans, and features predominantly male/male pairings with sometimes graphic descriptions of sexual material. If this is jarring or offensive, please avoid reading BLOOD SONS.

 

CHAPTER TWO  
ABADN’S GATE

“He won’t escape,” Uldr’s voice was rigid as he paced.

The new Presark-King was afire despite the cool shades of silver moonlight cast from the stone balcony. His fists clenched and unclenched and every ropey cord of muscle in his body was tense and taught. Despite the strong physicality of Kaasar’s new Presark-King, Bresaln didn’t think Uldr looked the part, but maybe that was because the former Presark had been ruler for so long that Bresaln simply just wasn’t accustomed to the idea of someone else sitting on the World Throne. _Besides,_ Bresaln thought. _A true Kaasari Presark-King wouldn’t fret like a lost casarc cub alone in the jungle._ While he waited, his greatest hunters had been on the move all night scouring the wilderness for his eldest brother. _It’s good that Sindr is an expert woodsman and his younger brother is not_ , Bresaln thought, though he made sure not to show the mirth on his face.

“The casarcs will sniff him out by morning,” Uldr said to himself through gritted teeth.

“He will be found and brought to justice,” Bresaln said absently, though his tone held little conviction. He shifted his aching legs in a more comfortable position beneath him. It started with a faint tingle in his hips and had turned into daggers all the way down to his knees. He hardly slept since all this madness had begun, and not all of it was due to his body’s discomfort. 

Three days ago, well-loved and adored Presark-King Talgr had been alive and perfectly healthy. Bresaln had sat between the two Kaasari Presark-Princes, Uldr and Sindr, at the feasting table enjoying their company as they drank their way through a barrel of mead. Talgr had made a joke about the birth of his latest blood son; he had so many he could’t keep count anymore, which was no shock for any Presark who had ruled as long as Talgr.

Every Presark was expected to strengthen his clan with countless blood sons. Though none of them would be his chosen heirs, they would receive the prestige deserving of the Presark’s divine bloodline. The joke about Talgr’s countless sons spurred Bresaln to glance at Uldr, who was but a young Kaasari prince second in line (third in line, technically, if you counted the middle child that had died in infancy) and yet had already seeded two sons of his own.

It was Bresaln’s greatest wish (and the wish of his own fathers for him) to produce blood son children. Sired by one of the royal brothers, it made Bresaln’s children potential heirs for the Presark title, should anything befall the line of succession. Bresaln’s beauty and position made him a strong candidate to be a consort to the royal family, but as he stared at Uldr — a man he had come to despise — Bresaln wondered how long before Uldr would set him aside as well, just as he set aside the other beautiful playthings that had birthed his two other sons.

Less than twelve hours after that feast, the Presark had taken ill. Horribly ill. The mystics and sages of the Torn Sor Kaa arrived to heal their lord, but it was too late. They discovered traces of poison and by the evening of the next night, blame was laid at Sindr’s feet. The firstborn son and heir had evidently grown tired of waiting to claim his birthright.

Bresaln put a hand to his womb. The room was cast in cool crystalfire and silver moonlight from the six moons; a lighting that favored Bresaln’s light brown complexion. The Kaasari species were identical with humans of the male gender, the only difference being their reproductive system. There were no records of a female counterpart in the species, nor in the planet’s flora and fauna. The casarcs, tharroc, rancor and all the other animals on the planet were seemingly intersex as well, and the fauna that had been imported to the planet in the lost ages of Kaasar’s history had intermingled with the local creatures and evolved along similar biological pathways. Bresaln was a perfect Kaasari specimen with an almost equal amount of feminine and masculine features, such as his long, full wavy brown hair framing a square, hollow jaw, dusted with a fresh growth of facial hair. His chest rippled with slender muscle, and from the defined intercostals of his ribs rose a tightly-stretched pregnant belly with a navel that had turned inside out. Unlike female species from other worlds, Kaasari men did not grow breasts, not even during pregnancy. The juxtaposition of seeing a masculine-feminine pregnant male was never lost on the rare starborn visitors that happened upon the planet.

Though Bresaln was both feminine and masculine in various ways, some Kaasari favored one or the other. Uldr was comely in a masculine sense: short, cropped dark hair crowned his head, and his boyish features were slowly becoming more angled as he inched further into his manhood. Uldr was twenty years of age with shoulders that were broadening and deep-set silver eyes under thick downturned eyebrows that gave him a severe look. 

“What a waste….” Bresaln whispered, thinking of how Uldr’s comeliness was lost to his personality.

Beyond the open archways leading toward the room’s connected balcony, Uldr turned. “What did you say?”

“Your fool brother,” said Bresaln, remembering Sindr’s gentle touch and his warm smile; his calloused hands touching Bresaln’s cheek; the feeling of being shared by the two most powerful brothers on the planet. The words he spoke aloud in front of Uldr were not conveying of the deep respect he bore Sindr in his heart. The words were just words. “The World Throne could’ve been his had he just been patient. What a waste.”

“Yes, he is a fool,” he stated quickly, eager to agree on any malignment thrown at his brother. “To think he could get away with murdering the most powerful man on Kaasar.”

Bresaln shook his head. “It’s so unlike him,” he said, his hand moving beneath the roundness of his middle, where the bare curve of it sank into the cloth covering his groin. Inside him, his soon-to-be-born son wriggled and stretched, contorting the taut skin of Bresaln’s belly into a square shape. “He never liked using poison. Not even when we hunted the most ferocious rancors. He always said it cheapened the kill … that there’s no glory in it.”

Uldr snatched Bresaln’s face into one hand, causing the pregnant man to gasp. The new, hot-headed Presark drove his nails into the skin of Bresaln’s cheeks. “Do you doubt it?” he spat. Uldr was shaking. Bresaln thought he saw a glimpse of fear in those silver eyes that he had come to know and loathe so well. Fear. Not of Bresaln, but fear of the truth. The truth of what really happened to Sindr and Uldr’s father. 

“I know your heart is weak for him, but you must kill your feelings for my traitor brother. All six clans will unite against him. They will cover this world thrice over until Sindr is found and flayed open like casarc meat, and after that I will see to it that his manhood is given to the cannibal clans.” 

Uldr threw Bresaln’s face backward so hard he bounced on the bed, making the wooden supports nearly snap beneath him. Their son inside him whirled with a kick.

Violence made Uldr happy.

So happy that he climbed atop Bresaln and pinned his chest to the bed as he maneuvered himself between the other man’s legs. A consort was not allowed to refuse as Bresaln would have liked to in that moment, so he let his own rage silently percolate. Uldr’s temper had been a topic of gossip among the clans and Bresaln had been the focus of it on many occasions. But Bresaln had a temper as well, one that could unleash a storm — but he was smarter than that. To strike a blood son was treasonous and called for instant death. Perhaps death would be sweeter than this. No Kaasari should treat his pregnant _hacron_ in this manner — it was crossing a line.

With his legs spread in the air and Uldr deep within him, Bresaln thought of where his own allegiances lied. He thought of Sindr, an incredible man of strength and temperament. He would have made Talgr proud as his successor. As his own body reacted to the pleasure he received, he pined for those private nights where he shared Sindr’s bed alone. The last time had been but a handful of days ago. Sindr knew how to make love to a man heavy with child, he knew when to hold back … and when to give it all to make his lover cry out in both pleasure and pain.

Uldr’s motivation was always only himself and his desire to hurt others.

This felt good, Bresaln thought as Uldr cupped the sides of his swollen belly for extra grip. But it was pathetic when compared to what his brother offered; yet another way Uldr lived in his brother’s shadow.

There was a rap at the door as Uldr’s muscular form struggled to find his finish.

“Enter!” Uldr shouted angrily. 

The royal family’s captain appeared, a man several years older than both Bresaln and Uldr, yet still virile and dark-haired. Volokr had broad shoulders, a powerful torso and a jaw that was set like stone. He wasn’t incredibly beautiful, but he was handsome still, and desirable in more ways than just physicality. The captain’s long brown, braided hair was pulled back and slick from the night’s humidity. 

Bresaln hated for Volokr to catch him in this position. Volokr knew, of course, of the expectations of a royal consort. But Volo loved him deeply and preferred not to be reminded. The captain stood rigid, trying not to look as Uldr finished on Bresaln’s swollen womb with a series of grunts.

“My lord,” began Captain Volokr. “News has arrived.”

Uldr clambered off Bresaln, pulling his loincloth back into place. “Fetch me water, Bresaln,” he commanded, taking a nearby cloth to dry his sweaty face. The jungle’s humidity pressed in from the open archways of the moonlit balcony. “Tell me.”

Struggling to his feet, the pregnant consort wiped himself clean and poured water into a stone goblet for his lord and master.

Volokr gave the prince a bow of his head. “Their trail has been found, my lord.” he said. “They are headed to Abadn’s Gate. An ambush is being prepared as we speak.”

“Abadn’s Gate?” Uldr’s eyes widened momentarily before he gulped his water. “He cannot hope to survive on the other side.”

“Your brother has lost all sanity, my lord,” said Volokr, bowing his head loyally. It was rumored that Volokr was one of the many blood sons descended from the God-King, much like Talgr and his sons. Lord Ravgr — the God-King himself — had united the six clans under one ruler a thousand years ago, but Volokr’s bloodline had been thwarted in a bitter war centuries ago, and had served Talgr’s bloodline ever since as penance. There were countless bloodlines descended from Lord Ravgr, and every few centuries, one of the old bloodlines consolidated enough power and support from the other clans to challenge the reigning bloodline’s rule. Kaasar’s history was tumultuous and bloody, and would likely remain so.

Like Bresaln, Volokr had loved Sindr with all of his heart. He, like everyone, thought Sindr would take his father’s place as Presark-King rather than Uldr, but Bresaln knew where Volo’s true allegiance lied.

“He cannot be allowed through,” Uldr said, clasping Volokr’s shoulder in confidence. “I will not be denied the satisfaction of killing him myself.”

“The kill is yours, my lord.”

“Protect the ziggurat while I’m away,” he commanded Volokr. “I will join the hunt.”

Volokr crisscrossed his index and middle fingers into a steeple and bowed once again; it was the symbol of their clan, demonstrating absolute loyalty. 

Uldr turned to give Bresaln one last look. “Wipe Sindr from your heart, my _hacron_ ,” he said, using the ancient Kaasari word for ‘greatest love’, and then smiled. It was as if his fury had been forgotten, replaced by excitement and glee. The prospect of capturing and killing his brother seemed to enrapture him. “When I return, everything will change.”

_For the better?_ he asked himself. _Or for the worse?_ He felt as though he already knew the answer. When Uldr was gone, Bresaln massaged his forehead to relieve the terrible tension that was gathering there. He dared to wonder why he had such a bad feeling about this. When he opened his eyes again, he found Volokr still in the room with him, staring at him.

Bresaln sat forward attentively. “What is it?”

Volokr closed the door behind him, ensuring they were alone. “We need to do something,” Volokr whispered. “Uldr is a threat to the entire planet, and to _us_.”

Bresaln reached under his pillow a produced an ornate curved dagger and held it firmly in his hands. “I know.”

The other man lowered Bresaln’s dagger until it rested harmlessly on the bed. “No, Bres,” he stated fervently. “The people would tear you apart. And if you failed, the things Uldr would do to you….”

Bresaln swallowed. “Then what can be done?”

Volokr clenched his eyes shut as if to summon an answer from the depths of his soul. “Sindr,” he said weakly, and then again more resolutely. “Sindr! He must return and prove his innocence to the clans. It’s the only way.”

“Fly to him,” said Bresaln, taking Volo’s hands into his own. “Find him before Uldr. If you leave now, you still have a chance to arrive before he does.” Bresaln stepped forward so that he was as close with Volokr as his belly would allow. “Do it for our son,” he said, placing Volokr’s hand upon his stomach.

Volokr stared at him for a long moment, shock writ upon his face.

“The timing,” he whispered. “It makes the child yours, not Sindr’s or Uldr’s. Uldr will kill me if he finds out, but Sindr knows. He keeps our secret and supports us.”

“I….”

“Say nothing,” Bresaln said. “Go with Sindr and bring him back.”

___________________________

Abadn’s Gate. Ancient and treacherous. The bulwark that stood between Kaasari civilization and the dangerous, deadly Deep Jungle where massive trees and gargantuan beasts such as terentatek, rancor, gundark, and even Kaasari chimaera were said to roam. A man he once loved, a starborn human, once told him that the beasts here on Kaasar were much larger than species of the same ilk found elsewhere in the galaxy. Evidently, rancor found on other worlds weren’t the size of ziggurats. He supposed that hunting on other worlds must be incredibly boring if the creatures there were so small.

One of the first descendants of the God-King, Abadn, had the wall constructed almost a thousand years ago to keep the beasts from Kaasari territory. It had worked, for the most part, until Presark-King Abadn himself had been eaten by an arboreal octopus that had climbed the wall and, if the stories were true, ate a hundred sleeping workers in silence before the horns sounded. The wall was finished a few years later by Abadn’s son, but not after a few terentatek had slipped through.

No one went beyond Abadn’s Gate. Even the deranged cannibal clans knew to stay far, far away. Which made it the perfect place to seek refuge from Uldr. Sindr had a healthy fear of the beasts beyond, but he was the best hunter in all six clans, proven time and time again by the annual Death Trials, which he had won every year in a row for the last nine years since he was thirteen.

The only year he didn’t compete was when he was too heavy with child, five years ago. The thought of his son stirred in him emotions he tried long ago to bury. Uldr had made fun of Sindr and his pregnancy, calling him ‘too fat’ to compete, and had won that year thanks to his beloved poisons. It was a cheap way to win the Death Trial, or to earn a kill at all for that matter. Part of the fun of hunting was knowing the weak points on the beast’s body. A well-placed energy shot could bring down even the mightiest of casarc, and a spear thrown with precisely the right amount of strength at the perfect angle could even knock a lesser rancor off its feet. Now _that_ was skill. Poisons made prey weak and sluggish. There was no pride to be found in a sober man beating a drunken man in a fight. It was the same principle between a hunter and his prey.

Sindr paused and Haln came up behind him. They were still far above the ground, moving from tree to tree via a string of connected branches that made a sort of road eastward toward the Gate. They both caught their breath and passed a water skin between them. The sun was rising ahead of them, just over the wall which rose over the jungle’s highest trees about an hour’s run east.

They were sweaty and exhausted. Sindr feared for Haln’s child, but they couldn’t risk loitering. Haln was young and strong like all Kaasari were at his age, and moreover Haln had grown up in a village on the outskirts of the wilds where cannibals and lawless tribes wandered. Haln could more than take care of himself. 

Pregnancies were fragile in their beginnings though, and Haln’s was only just beginning to become pronounced. “Still holding together?” Sindr asked his friend after taking another mouthful of water down his dry throat. Like Sindr, Haln’s bare skin was glossed with a sheen of sweat. Though he wasn’t as strongly built as Sindr, who had broad shoulders and a long torso, Haln was slight and small, making him more agile.

Haln leaned forward and put his hands on his knees as he inhaled deeply from the moist, jungle air. “I’m fine,” he said, standing straight again. There was a fire of determination in his eyes. “I’m with you to the end,” he said, then looked east toward the wall. “Even if you’re taking us that way, to our certain deaths. Ravgr preserve us….”

“I have a plan,” he said, placing his hands over his head to let his armpits cool.

“I know you do, my lord,” Haln said. “You’ve always worked well under pressure. Your father is gone, your brother is a traitor. _You_ are our people’s salvation. I hope you know that.”

“The people will never believe the truth,” he said, grimly. “Especially after I’ve proved my guilt by fleeing.”

“There was no other way,” said Haln. “If you had stayed, your brother would have thrown you into the dungeons and conspired to murder you, just like he murdered your father. Uldr is unlike you in every way. He is dishonorable, dislikable, abusive, manipulative — if he remains Presark, it will darken your bloodline forever.”

_Yes,_ Sindr thought. There were terrible Presark-Kings in the past, but he feared Uldr more than he feared the tablets of history. _My brother is a problem._ “I’ll deal with him later,” he stated calmly, finally catching his breath. “There’s someone else that can help in the meantime.”

“Beyond Abadn’s Gate?” said Haln incredulously. “There’s no one living out there.”

“There is one,” said Sindr slowly. “He once led the Torn Sor Kaa before it declined. Before they became a worthless bunch of mystics waving burning herbs through the air like magic wands.”

Haln’s eyes widened. “Etreskl the Mad? You’re kidding? He died ages ago.”

“I thought you said you trusted me.”

“I do, but….”

“Then let’s go,” he said, stretching his legs one final time before bounding off to the next branch.

They had come to Abadn’s Gate within the next hour and stood atop it, looking at the inconceivably vast, untamed jungles beyond it. It seemed as though a dark cloud hung over it, but there were no clouds in sight. It was like looking over the edge of the known world and discovering that the world was bigger than one could ever imagine. Sindr had stood here once when he was much younger. His father, Talgr, had put an arm around him as they listened in silence to the earthquaking thumps of some giant two-legged creature moving unseen in the jungle wilderness beneath them. The creature was so big the thick jungle canopy swayed above it as it went.

“This is where our borders ends,” his father had told him. “The darkness keeps the Deep Jungle in its clutches, and only the God-King was powerful enough to navigate them and live. Lord Ravgr kept a temple somewhere out there, and only the chosen of the Torn Sor Kaa knew of its whereabouts. It’s since been lost to time, and the key to open has been lost for centuries. All who ventured to find it never returned.”

No one knew what the temple housed, or why Ravgr had built it so far into the impassable wilderness. No one even knew who built it. Some say Ravgr went alone in the wilderness and built it all himself with the power of his mind. The tablets of history held no record of its origins.

Sindr had grown up wondering about that temple. Kaasari worshipped Lord Ravgr, believing him to be their deity, but why would he have built a temple that no one could find? It was not Sindr’s place to question the Lord’s ways, of course.

“What do you think?” Sindr asked Haln.

“It’s … breathtaking,” Haln said, gazing over the edge. “And a little scary.”

Sindr smirked. “Ready?” asked Sindr. “We may not be coming back from this.”

Haln placed a hand on Sindr’s shoulder and nodded. “I’ve already told you, I’m with you until the end.”

Sindr guided him to a steep, railless narrow ledge that descended the outer wall. In order to traverse it, they would have to cling their bodyweight against the stones and hope that no wind would blow them off. When the next ledge began, it did so beneath the one above it so that they would have to jump down to it and begin descending the other way, zig-zagging down toward the jungle floor. The branches of the jungle trees did not extend close enough to the wall to jump, and everyone knew that the ‘gate’ part of Abadn’s Gate had long ago been corroded and sealed off. There was no other way to descend.

“On second thought….” Haln said.

Suddenly there was commotion in the skies above them and Sindr and Haln drew their Katarri energy bows, aiming it at the approaching tharroc. The beast possessed the head of a fox, curled caribou antlers, and the feathered body of an eagle, with a complete complement of razor-sharp talons. Tharroc were only allowed to be flown by royal blood sons, clan warlords, messengers, and select warriors called Windriders. The winged beast settled twenty meters away, with a unique screeching yip and a bark. 

Volokr was perched atop the chimeric creature, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Volo?” said Sindr, his bow still trained on his friend. Though Volokr had been a faithful companion for all his life, he could hardly trust anyone anymore. “You’re far from home.”

“As are you, my prince,” he said proudly, bowing his head. “I’ve brought you a gift.” He whistled loudly and another tharroc soared down from the clouds.

It encircled its master before coming to land directly beside Sindr. “Ebindr!” Sindr couldn’t help but laugh as he was reunited with his beloved friend and beast of burden. The red-feathered tharroc warbled excitedly and nuzzled Sindr’s face with its feathery fox head, then began to lick the sweat from Sindr’s back.

“It isn’t safe here, Sindr,” said Volokr. He seemed on edge, his eyes swiveling above and all around them. “Uldr’s Windriders are ambushing you here. They might already have arrived. You _must_ leave _now_! Uldr is on his way, too. He wants to claim your head himself. I flew here on the windstream, but your brother cannot be far behind.”

Flying on the windstream was dangerous. Even the most skilled tharroc riders could be torn to shreds by its violent winds. That Volo had braved them for his sake to deliver this warning … he turned to Haln. “Climb on!” he cried, already climbing onto the beast’s back.

By the time he pulled Haln up onto the saddle and strapped themselves in, it was already too late.

“Watch out!” Volokr screamed, tensing on his beast, urging it to fly as a dozen Windriders dived from the clouds above, raining energy shots from their bows. For the second instance in too short of time, it seemed to rain fire.

Sindr watched in horror as Volokr’s loyal tharroc was filled with a dozen bolts of plasma. Its wings were scorched and smoking as its momentum faltered and failed. 

The beast twitched, whimpered, and died as its body slid forward, all momentum lost.

Volokr…

…was already dead.

“Volo!” Sindr shouted, spurring Ebindr faster even as plasma from the Windriders’ energy bows fell all around him. Ebindr yipped as the tip of his of his right wing was struck, but with a cursory glance Sindr thought the wound seemed minor. The tharroc pushed off from the edge of the wall, folded his red wings tightly, and plummeted directly toward the jungle floor, bracing before they punctured the upper canopy of the Deep Jungle. Branches, limbs, vines snapped at their faces and bare skin as they dove. Sindr trusted Ebindr and gave him full rein, allowing the beast to maneuver through the holes between tree limbs.

When the tharroc opened his wings again, it was just before they hit the jungle floor. They straightened with a jerk as Ebindr used his powerful legs to push off against the soil and rebound back into the air. Sindr and Haln scanned above and around them, watching as a few of the Windriders attempting pursuit smashed against limb and tree, or were caught up by vines. One golden-plumed Windrider, however, was hot on their tail.

Uldr.

Sindr’s brother may not have been the best huntsman, but he was an excellent flyer. Haln readied his energy bow, pulling back on the string. “Don’t hesitate, Haln!” Sindr said to his friend behind him. “Take the shot!”

Haln released the energy string, but missed as Uldr brought his beast into a tight roll. As Haln readied another shot, Sindr focused ahead, trying to find some advantage in the terrain. The jungle down here was dark despite the risen sun. All was painted in shades of blue and green, with the odd slant of sunlight beaming from the east. 

“I’ll kill you!” Uldr shouted after him, his voice wraithlike and shrieking.

Another shot was fired, but this time it had come from Uldr’s bow. The red blaster bolt came so close to Sindr he could feel the tip of his ear burn. He banked Ebindr into a hard right and the bird, now turned completely sideways as he was, again used his strong legs to push off of a tree, helping smooth the almost impossible turn.

Uldr’s tharroc followed suit, doing so made much easier because of the less weight it carried. Again and again Sindr tried to outmaneuver his youngest brother but to no avail. Uldr was too talented of a flyer to lose him in any conventional way. Haln and Uldr traded shots, both coming close but never succeeding. Their birds were tiring and Sindr’s adrenaline was faltering. He had run without stop all night long and without a proper rest, and now he, too, was feeling the strain on his body and mind as he tried to simply hold on to his feathered friend.

Suddenly vines appeared like writhing snakes. He thought he imagined it, but not trusting himself, Sindr pulled back on Ebindr’s reins anyways and avoided the snare. As he looked over his shoulder he realized that the vines _were_ actually moving. They caught Uldr and his tharroc mid flight. Sindr circled around and, just before landing, jumped off the back of his beast just as Uldr leapt off the back of his. Their swords clashed as they joined in midair and landed on their feet on opposite sides.

Haln, still on Ebindr’s back, fired a shot at Uldr, who rolled out of the way just in time. As Uldr regained his footing, he threw a knife at Haln, striking him in the chest. With a pained gasp, Haln plucked the knife from himself and examined it. Sindr didn’t have to see Haln’s dark reaction to know that the knife was poisoned. The poison itself took hold immediately. Haln’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, foam spilling from his mouth, as he slumped forward against Ebindr.

Roaring, the two brothers clashed swords again. “He’s with child!” Sindr shouted.

“Your child,” said Uldr with disgust.

“No, brother,” said Sindr. “Yours.”

Uldr only laughed. “Mine then,” he said with glee. “But I cannot allow a child of mine to be born with traitor’s blood.” He lunged at Sindr, who deflected the blow to the side. “Haln made his choice. He sided with you, and now he’ll die for it.”

Blow by blow, they weathered each other’s skill, but Uldr was far more well rested than Sindr was, and the younger brother was pushing Sindr further and further back. 

“Why did you kill Father?” Sindr groaned as he parried a slash to his shoulder. “He loved you!”

“And I loved him,” said Uldr, easily dodging from Sindr’s riposte. “Just as I loved you.”

“Spare me,” said Sindr, bringing the pummel of his Kaasari sword up into Uldr’s chin, sending him barreling backward in a shower of blood.

Uldr growled as he recoiled from the pain and gathered his feet beneath him. “You and Father are weak!” he spat blood into the jungle soil, his sword pointed at Sindr accusingly. “Father weakened our bloodline with his peaceful talks and gross complacency!” 

“That’s not a good enough reason!” Sindr yelled, his muscles flexing as he raised his sword. “You just wanted power.”

With fury enkindled, Uldr began to charge.

From the deep shade of the nearby foliage a shadow emerged. As he stepped into daylight , both Sindr and Uldr paused. The man looked to be older than Sindr’s father had been, with a muscled frame swathed in Kaasari tattoos. Age had not weakened his body in the slightest. His eyes were wrapped in a cloth tied behind his head, and his hair was as brown as wood. Emerging from the ferns beside him was a four-legged hound that was as tall as the man, its mouth laying bare teeth as long as knives. It was a vornskr, deadly hounds rarely seen.

The man waved a hand through the air and the beast launched forward faster than Sindr could react. He braced for an impact that never came, as it was Uldr that was the focus of the vornskr’s ire. Uldr crashed into the dirt entangled in a deadly struggle with the beast while Sindr stood by, watching as his brother was mauled again and again. For all his brother’s combat prowess, he stood no chance against a vornskr.

It ended as quickly as it began. As if bidden by a silent command, the vornskr left Uldr bloodied on the jungle floor and returned faithfully to its master’s side. The elder man stood as still as stone with his plain wooden staff in hand. “Judgment comes for you, Uldr of the First Blood, false Presark-King and usurper,” said the blind man. “Leave this place. Your time is coming.”

Uldr barely managed to rise to his feet. His arms were bitten and sliced and a chunk was missing from his shoulder. Blood poured from his nose and mouth. He stooped for his sword but the vornskr growled so deep that Sindr’s chest vibrated with the sound. Uldr hesitated, his eyes locking with the beast, but he grabbed his sword anyway and slowly backed away.

“You’re not going anywhere, brother,” said Sindr, stepping forward, sword at the ready. But the old man gripped his shoulder and Sindr found himself inextricably unable to move. It was as if he had been frozen in place by the man’s touch.

Uldr pointed his sword weakly at Sindr as blood dribbled down his arm and dripped from his fingers and into the jungle soil. “I’m coming back for you,” he threatened. “This is just the beginning.” His tharroc barked and yipped wildly as it lowered itself to the ground and allowed Uldr to mount it. With one last look at his brother, Uldr spurred his flying beast into the air and disappeared through the dense foliage.

Sindr felt himself able to move again, and he wheeled on the man. “What did you do to me? Why did you let him go? I could have ended all of this right now if you had let me—”

“Now is not the time for your brother to die, lad,” interrupted the old man gently. “I will explain what I can, when I can.”

Sindr’s sword lowered toward the ground. “You are Etreskl the Mad.”

“—The Mad?” said the blind one solemnly. He nodded. “Yes, I am mad,” he said, reaching to stroke his pet vornskr’s furry neck. “I am _quite_ mad, especially that your father has been struck down. He was a good man. A good ruler. I am madder still that you allowed yourself to be chased from your own home. Foolish boy, did your father not teach you better?”

Sindr sighed heavily. He, too, had the very same regrets. “I was taken by surprise. It’s by Ravgr’s grace that I was able to escape.”

“Your ‘ _god_ ’ was a fool,” said Etreskl pointedly, brushing past Sindr toward Haln who was laying limp atop Ebindr’s feathered back. “Come, your friend needs aid, and there is much that needs doing. Your brother will return with an army, and you will die if you stay on this planet any longer.”

Sindr went with the man and helped carry Haln from the tharroc and toward a cave entrance hidden by hanging vines that Sindr swore had just appeared out of nowhere. Deep into the cave they went until the glow of a fire could be seen ahead. As they drew closer, Sindr’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could see that this cave had been lived in for many years. His hunter’s eyes discerned ancient bones of creatures crafted and into ornaments and decorations hanging from outcroppings of rocks. Handmade baskets and urns were scattered about, and a bed made from pelts lay beside the fire. 

They placed Haln atop the pelt before Etreskl disappeared further down into the cave, leaving Sindr with his dying friend. He took Haln’s hand and kissed it. Haln had been a childhood friend, and eventually a lover when they reached manhood. They were inseparable. A tear ran down Sindr’s cheek as he watched foam belch continuously from his friend’s mouth.

Etreskl returned minutes later with the herbs and potions he needed, but by then blood was trickling out of Haln’s eyes. 

Haln son of Haldn was dead.

Sindr wept silently for the next hour cradling Haln’s head in his lap while Etreskl moved about the cave, busying himself. It wasn’t for another hour that Sindr realized Etreskl was packing. He was consolidating baskets of food, potions, herbs, artifacts and so much more. Nearby, the vornskr watched with its ears tilted backward as it whined sadly.

“Are you going somewhere?” asked Sindr. His voice cracked with emotion.

“Did you not hear me earlier, my lad?” he said as he tied a small rope around a bundle of edible plants and stuffed them into a basket. “If you stay here on this planet, you will die.”

Sindr’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not leaving my people,” he stated firmly. “My father, my friends, their spirits cry out for vengeance. I _must_ take the World Throne back from my brother. I’m not going anywhere.”

“She said you’d say that.”

“Who?”

“My ex-wife,” said Etreskl.

Sindr’s dark eyebrows tightened together. He was beginning to understand why they called him ‘the Mad’. 

“She said to tell you that Tesran is in danger,” said the madman.

_Tesran?_ Sindr’s heart skipped a beat. How does he know about Tesran? Sindr felt himself sink once more beside the fire. It was cold in here with a draft of icy wind coming from somewhere further below. Tesran was unlike any other man Sindr had met, not only because Tesran was starborn, but because Tesran was the first man he had truly loved.

It shamed him to say so, but the love he bore for Haln, Bresaln, and the other consorts that have come and gone through the years, was _different_. Rarely did a Kaasari blood son take a consort out of romantic love. Love came in many forms, and physical attraction was one of those forms. Friendly love, as he had for Haln, was no less valid and true. But romantic love? He had not felt, and still had not felt after five years, a love as powerful as that.

But Tesran had left without goodbye. Sindr watched from the ziggurat as Tesran and his master’s starship floated upward into the sky until it became small, and finally disappeared amongst the stars. _My starborn mate returned home without a word_ , he thought. The memory was so painful, so vivid, that tears sprang to his eyes even now. Sindr was pregnant at that time, and Tesran _knew_. Tesran _cared_ about him and their child. They had spent every night together dreaming of their future as a family, and still he abandoned them without explanation.

Sindr swallowed his sadness. “Tesran left me,” he struggled to say. “I cannot fight his battles for him, not when I have a battle to fight here.”

“She said you’d say that, too,” said the old man, reaching into a satchel at his waist to pull out a flat, cylindrical handheld device that reminded Sindr of the advanced, alien machinery Tesran and his master used. Starborn machinery. Etreskl pushed a button and a ghostly blue image flickered to life above the device. It was of a young child with light colored hair and bright blue eyes, and a nose just like …..

Sindr unconsciously sank to his knees. Etreskl gave the device over for him to hold, and Sindr’s hand quivered as he stared at the rotating image of the young boy. Teardrops dribbled down his cheeks as he held the device as steadily as he could, trying to blink and wipe the tears away so that he could see. “I never had the chance to name him,” Sindr said slowly. “They said he was stolen. That the cannibals had snuck into the ziggurat in the night and taken him. All these years, I thought.…” To even utter the words aloud brought unimaginable pain.

“He was not cannibalized,” Etreskl reassured him. “And I’m sorry that you were told that.”

“Then _how?!_ ” Sindr asked suddenly, looking at Etreskl wildly. “How is he alive?”

Etreskl met his eyes. He seemed uncertain whether or not he should elaborate. “Your son is named Koda, and he has been reunited with his other father.” The old man squeezed Sindr’s shoulder. “They need you now. Nothing else is important.”

 

 **Visual Aids for Tharroc and Casarc creatures:**  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/181679790@N08/47959856751/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, PLEASE leave a nice comment or critique. I struggle deeply with motivation, but kind constructive remarks give me a huge creative boost! Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Jedi Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tesran and Koda must redefine themselves in a post-Order 66 galaxy. Ardr is approached by a sinister individual and offered a unique opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is made to fit within "new canon" or "Disney canon" sources, with some Legend material and custom pieces to supplement as necessary. This is not an Alternative Universe story. It is written to conform and coincide with known Disney canon. Original characters are the predominate focus of the narrative with known Film/canon characters making brief appearances or mentioned in passing. This story contains 'mpreg' (male pregnancy) designed to fit within Star Wars lore by utilizing a custom species of near-humans, and features predominantly male/male pairings with sometimes graphic descriptions of sexual material. If this is jarring or offensive, please avoid reading BLOOD SONS.

CHAPTER THREE   
JEDI LOST

“How adorable,” the woman said. “He looks just like you!”

Tesran smiled politely at the stranger and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “He really does,” he admitted. “It’s pretty weird.” It was pure good fortune that the youngling he rescued from the temple just happened to have blonde hair, blue eyes, and a similar nose, making their story about how they were father and son fleeing the turmoil of the war more plausible.

It was a simple enough story, and a story like so many others. The Clone Wars had been devastating for the galaxy, leaving countless worlds ravaged, hyperlanes wrecked and impassable, and entire planetary governments crippled. Refugees were pouring into the lawless Outer Rim while pirates and Separatist remnants fed on the chaos.

“Well it was good to meet you, young man,” said the older woman, gathering her meager belongings. The spaceport was crowded and uncomfortable, smelling of thousands of unwashed, desperate travelers. Refugee tents were scattered throughout the entire port, creating a small city of diverse and beleaguered people. It was the last place Tesran wanted to be, and yet a crowd such as this provided the anonymity he and Koda were looking for. “Thank you so much for your help with that nasty Devaronian.”

Said Devaronian was currently unconscious somewhere nearby, thanks to Tesran’s hard right jab to the temple. The man would recover soon enough and when he did, would hopefully think twice about stealing from the elderly.

“Keep your purse closer to your chest,” he said to the woman. “Doesn’t seem like security here cares much about thieves.”

“Of course they don’t, dearie,” she said in a sardonic tone. “We’re in Bygone, after all. It’s as lawless here as it is in my granddaughter’s toy box. Luckily, my next flight out of here will be along any moment and I can put these last three horribly long years behind me.” She reached down at pinched Koda’s chubby cheek. “You take of your daddy now, won’t you dearie? He needs you just as much as you need him. Don’t you forget that now.”

Koda wriggled his face away from the woman’s grasp and snuggled behind Tesran’s legs, where he was wont to hang out these days. 

When she was gone, Tesran pondered how the last three years had seemed to drag on and on for him as well. They weren’t the best three years for him nor anyone in the galaxy. His field promotion to Jedi Knight seemed like a lifetime ago. He always dreamed of becoming a knight of the order and being sent all across the galaxy to spread the light of justice and peace wherever it was needed; to represent the Republic, and by extension, democracy, across the stars. But then came the advent of the Clone Wars and with it a hasty field promotion that felt unearned, and after that he became a Jedi commander leading entire clone battalions; a responsibility he never felt comfortable having. In the years that followed he watched thousands of clone troopers fall and hundreds of his Jedi brothers and sisters die. Including the two younglings he failed and the Jedi knight, Clra Un, who had died trying to protect them. He had no choice but to set their bodies free into space. He would have preferred to give them a proper Jedi funeral atop a burning pyre, but instead he wrapped them in cloaks and said a few words. Koda, too, wanted to say words to ease their passing, as did HE-R0, who blooped and bleeped a kind sentiment of goodbye. 

Tesran Hunt had been through too much in too short a time. He survived being marooned behind enemy lines on the war-torn planet of Hexxis, survived the destruction of his _Venator_ -class Star Destroyer, and watched helplessly as the Separatist leader, Count Dooku, committed genocide against the people of Mahranee. And had even somehow escaped the destruction of the Jedi. Tesran felt as if he had aged three decades in the span of three years.

The Republic — and now the new Empire — had no jurisdiction or sway here in the Bygone system. During the war, Tesran helped secure an invaluable trade route through this very same system, which was an infamous pirate haven. The Bygone Pirate Lords had insulated itself against the Clone Wars, keeping both Separatist and Republic forces at bay. It took weeks for Tesran and his master to negotiate a secure a trade route for the Republic with the Bygone Pirate Lords, something the Separatists had been trying to accomplish for months. Chancellor Palpatine himself had even deigned to shake Tesran’s hand for his efforts. 

_Had I only known then that I had shaken the hand of a Sith Lord. Hindsight is such a—_

“B17-CH, report to docking bay 112 for scheduled inspection,” said the spaceport’s intercom, interrupting Tesran’s wandering thoughts, which he had struggled to master in these last several days since escaping the Jedi temple on Coruscant. His thoughts — his mind — had been seemingly betraying him at every turn, creating enemies out of shadows and demons out of the past. He had become paranoid, that much was for certain. And who could blame him? The Empire had painted the Jedi as monstrosities that needed culling, and Tesran didn’t have only himself to look after. He had five year old Koda who was afraid and confused and in need of an attentive guardian.

He wondered why he had even thought to come back here to this pirate’s nest, of all places in the galaxy. But there was _some_ wisdom in it. Bygone was insulated and neutral despite its allowance of a Republic trade route. As long as the pirate lords didn’t strike up a deal with the new Empire, there was a chance Tesran and Koda could hide here for some time.

So here he was in Bygone again, at the end of all things, hoping desperately that the pirate lords he had once made a deal with would be willing to make another.

The droid, HE-R0, clicked and beeped at him, reminding him that they weren’t here to save elderly women from purse-nabbing thieves. The little floating droid with its big blue photoreceptor was correct. There were bigger tasks at hand, but Tesran couldn’t help but help others when he could. It was what he was trained to do since as far back as he could remember. Helping others came to him as naturally as breathing.

HE-R0 stayed glued to Koda, using his shoulder (or his head) as a perch. She was decidedly protective over the youngling thanks to her nanny programming. HE-R0 and Master Vu Sae had once traveled the galaxy together as seekers, Jedi who sought out Force-sensitive children to bring back to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant for training as potential Jedi, and so HE-R0 had been programmed with a number of related directives and functions, one being the care of infants and children.

_Thank the Force for that_ , Tesran thought as he picked up the child and carried him back toward their ship through the endlessly oppressive crowds of refugees and travelers. These last few days together had proven difficult, enlightening, and downright terrifying….

Difficult because children are ceaselessly needy, especially five year olds whose entire world and way of life had been ripped out from beneath him like some cruel magic trick. Enlightening because Tesran learned just how often children need to eat, and how distracted they can be, how emotional they are and how bored they could get. Terrifying because of how forgetful they are sometimes … especially when it comes to maintaining a narrative for the sake of their own survival, narratives like how they were father and son and not actual Jedi fugitives escaping the cold heart of an evil Empire.

The boy was starting to understand, at least, the danger they were in and adapted quickly to the notion that some lies like the ones they told people about their identities were necessary and not harmful to anyone. But it would take only one forgetful lapse of memory for their story to unravel and for the Empire to fall on their heads.

And that wouldn’t be hard to accomplish, considering how everyone knew the Jedi were traitors. There wasn’t a holoscreen throughout the burgeoning Empire that didn’t broadcast _Emperor_ Palpatine’s speech declaring that the Republic had become a new Galactic Empire, or that didn’t broadcast Vice Chair Mas Amedda melting all the lightsabers collected from dead Jedi in an enormous furnace during a public ceremony on the steps of the Jedi Temple.

_At least we made it out of Republic space_ , he thought. The Force might have had something to do with that one. And then he remembered: _Not Republic space, you idiot. Imperial space. The Republic is the Empire now._ That would take some getting used to.

“Where are we going, Dad?” asked Koda in a muffled squeaky tone.

It was strange being called that. Both of his hands were clutched nervously around Tesran’s neck. He wondered if _this_ was what it was like being a father; if the last few days was a brief glimpse into parenthood — into the life he could have had with Sindr. Their child would be close to Koda’s age now. As he held Koda, for the briefest of moments, he _did_ actually feel like his father. 

And then the moment was gone as Tesran banished the fantasy. Soon he would return to Kaasar and try to find Sindr and their real child. That was where he was going, after all. But getting through the Outer Rim and out beyond it into Wild Space would take careful planning, and Bygone was the perfect place to lay low in the meantime.

Tesran and Koda were garbed as simple, inconspicuous travelers with scarves pulled up around their faces. Days before, Tesran had cut Koda’s traditional Padawan braid off. Tesran remembered his own Padawan braid. He still pictured it so vividly, even after three years, as his master snipped the braid and handed it to him. He wanted to keep the long lock of blonde hair as a memento of his past, but like a good Jedi who isn’t allowed any possessions, he let it go. It had been a moment of pride. But for Koda, who was barely a youngling, it had been a moment of sadness. Koda cried for hours. Tesran wanted to remind him of the Jedi Code: There is no emotion, there is peace. But he thought better of it. The past was the past now, and the question of whether or not they should identify themselves as Jedi — even in the quietude of their hearts — lay heavy on Tesran’s mind. 

There were once ten thousand Jedi knights in the galaxy. Now there were … well, however many were left. Not many, probably. He knew at least that Obi-Wan Kenobi had survived, or at least lived long enough to send the transmission warning the surviving Jedi to stay away from Coruscant.

“We’re headed back to the ship,” he answered at last, maneuvering through a group of Gamorreans smelling of rotten nerf cheese. Tesran would still be at the _Silverdark_ refueling had that Devaronian thief not swiped that poor woman’s purse, and had Tesran not felt obligated to assist.

“Where are we going after that, Dad?” 

“Well, my _son,_ ” he said, punctuating the word with a finger into the youngling’s middle, making him burst into a happy squeal. “Then we meet with an important woman who could help us.”

“Okay, and then where are we going after that?” asked Koda. “And then after that?” And then he pointed at a short, squat alien woman nearby with a dozen or so large ‘breasts’, which were really not breasts at all. “Dad, what are those?”

“…Egg sacs,” said Tesran, trying to recall the woman’s species and failing. The xenology class from his days at the temple felt like two lifetimes ago. “I think.”

When they returned to the _Silverdark_ , it was swarming with spaceport guards.

“Uh oh,” said Koda.

Tesran sighed. “ _Uh oh_ is right.” He set Koda down on the ground. HE-R0, having ridden on Koda’s shoulder the entire way, now moved to the top of the boy’s head and took a defensive stance with one or two of her blaster arms preparing for action. “No, Hero, I need you to go dark.” The droid beep-bopped at him. “He’s _fine_ with me. Thanks for you confidence, by the way. I can be an _excellent_ caregiver, thank you very much.”

With a quick warble, HE-R0 lifted off Koda’s head and darted up into the air and vanished. They had been in situations like this many times, and long before the Clone Wars ever began. This was just like any other typical jaunt into criminal space … except he and Koda were the actual criminals. From a certain point of view, at least.

“Hey guys,” said Tesran casually as he sauntered up to them, placing a hand on his hip. His handsome face was diminished by the dirt and grime of chasing down the thief, and the lower half of his face was covered by his scarf, giving him at least one small layer of anonymity. His mid-length wavy blonde hair was swept back and messy. He gestured with a free hand up at the starship. “Beautiful, isn’t he?”

All six guards wheeled at him with blasters pointed. It seemed they had been trying to get inside the starship, likely to retrieve any paraphernalia for their own personal enrichment. This was a pirate station, after all. 

The _Silverdark_ did look quite beautiful in contrast to the several other starships that occupied this section of the landing bay. It was a _Lancer-_ class pursuit craft with a slender, saucer-shaped hull and a two-position tandem cockpit in the front. Two bulky ion engines were mounted on either side of the saucer. The ship itself was eighteen meters in length with top speeds of over a thousand kilometers per hour, possessing one triple laser turret, four laser cannons, a class one hyperdrive and several other custom gizmos and gadgets that a Jedi might make use of. Its dark coating was designed to baffle sensors, making it a difficult target to detect and lock onto. In other words, it was a criminal’s wet dream.

“Stand back, pal,” said one of the guards, stepping forward with his gun still pointed at Tesran’s chest. “Show me some credentials.”

Tesran felt Koda’s tiny hands clench tighter around his leg. The boy was braver than most children his age, but he was still immensely impressionable. _He should still be in the temple learning basic mathematics_ , he thought as he slowly reached into a pocket and produced a sliced identichip that HE-R0 had created for him. _NOT dealing with situations like this, with a blaster pointed at him._

“Right here, sir,” said Tesran politely, presenting the chip and raising his hands in token of cooperation. “Name’s Gander, and this behind my pant leg is my son, Mark.”

The guard lowered his weapon and ran the identichip through a scanner on his datapad.

“Saw you were admiring my ship,” Tesran continued. “I call him the _Slipstream._ Not real original, but he’s smooth and slippery, just like you gotta be in this day and age. Once slipped past a Republic cruiser like a credit chit through a casino slot.” Tesran slid one hand across the palm of the other and made a _vrewwww!_ noise. “Cruiser didn’t even know I was there.”

The security team appeared on edge, no doubt because of the war and the refugee crisis on their hands. But one of them, a Duros, further back toward the ship relaxed his grip on the blaster and lowered it slightly. “You call your ship a ‘him’?” he questioned, looking back up to the ship. “Most people refer to their ships as _her._ If I had a ship like this, it would _definitely_ be female. I’d make her my baby.”

“I’m sure you would.” Tesran threw the Duros a judgmental eyebrow. “We all have our preferences, I suppose.”

The Duros blinked and shrugged. “Hm, suppose,” he agreed. “Have to say, you don’t seem the type to own a ship like this. It’d take five lifetimes for me to afford one of these, and I look twice more respectable than you do. How’d you come by it?”

“Now _that’s_ a story,” said Tesran, ignoring the jab on his appearance and preparing to tell a tall tale he already had pre-spun. “It all started when—”

“That’s enough of that,” said the captain of the guard, handing the identichip back to Tesran, glowering at the Duros and narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Tesran. “You sure you ain’t a bounty hunter? We don’t take kindly to bounty hunters around here.”

_‘Course they don’t,_ Tesran thought. _A system full of pirates like this? There are probably bounties on every other head._ Tesran gestured toward himself and to Koda. “We look like bounty hunters to you? Besides, we’re not fond of them either, if you catch my meaning. I have an …past … shall we call it? Same as you guys. We’re just simple travelers in search of a new home. Separatists lit our world on fire, this ship and each other’s all we have left.”

“Which world?” quizzed the captain.

“Mahranee,” said Tesran without missing a beat.

The Duros gave a low whistle. “Heard about that,” he said. “Dark business, genocide.”

“What were two humans doing on Mahranee?”

_Guy is relentless._

“Manual labor jobs can be found on anywhere in the galaxy,” Tesran stated, then stooped to pick Koda up and hold him close against him. “I work so this one can eat. Simple as that.”

The captain’s lip stiffened, but his eyes relaxed. “All right,” he said, then pointed back over his shoulder toward the ship. “Open her up. Routine inspection, you understand.”

Thirty minutes later when the inspection concluded, the guards found nothing and went off to turn their scruples on the next unwitting traveler. As they left, Tesran caught the Duros admiring the starship one last time. “Hey, guy,” Tesran said, approaching the guard. “I was wondering if I can ask a huge favor.”

The Duros narrowed his large, orange eyes. “I don’t like huge favors.” 

“A small favor then.”

The alien turned his body to face the human. “I don’t like small favors either.”

Tesran inwardly suppressed the desire to mind trick the man. That was a last resort. “Not a favor then. Just a question. I’m looking for an old friend,” he explained. “Is there still someone in charge around here named Hasler Jak?” A moment of silence stretched into infinite starlines before the Duros burst into a fit of laughter. As the alien clutched his stomach and roared, Tesran nodded and began laughing awkwardly, then raised a fist to his mouth and coughed into it before trying again. “No, uh, really. We go back, way back. She’d recognize me if she saw me.”

Still laughing, the Duros started walking off. “Get lost, man,” he said over his shoulder. “Ain’t no way someone like you’s friends with the boss.”

“You _will_ tell me where I can find her,” Tesran stated.

The statement had a strangely serious tone to it.

The Duros stopped mid step as if he had been hit in the head with an invisible snowball. Slowly, he turned toward Tesran. “I will tell you where you can find her….” he said blankly. “She’s down on the planet.”

“You’ll give me the coordinates,” said Tesran, waving his hand through the air.

“Here’s the coordinates,” the Duros said, then keyed his datapad and transmitted them to Tesran’s comm. The alien, now softened up and highly impressionable, stared absently at Tesran and said, “But if you’re gonna go see the boss, you’re gonna need clearance.”

“That’ll be easy,” Tesran said, then patted the Duros’ shoulder. “It’s you that’s the loose end.” With another hand-wave, the alien turned away to rejoin his fellow guards, remembering only that he had stopped to tie his shoes.

______________________

Ardr had returned from the Outer Rim Sieges early. Rarely do Jedi suffer mental breaks, but it was not impossible and Ardr — a humble Jedi Knight — had achieved a mental break so complete that he had done the unspeakable: he had killed his master. The Jedi Council had ruled it a tragic accident caused by the severe stress of the long, drawn out war, and were quick to suppress the news of Jedi Master Ben Yooli’s death. The galactic tension created by the Clone Wars was quickly reaching a boiling point, and the public’s disapproval of the war was growing by leaps and bounds. More news of the Jedi killing each other would not help alleviate the problem, especially after the temple bombing, in which a Padawan had decided to demonstrate her own displeasure with the Jedi.

Ardr relived the accident each and every day: The chaos of crisscrossing blaster fire, the screaming of the mortally wounded or dying. The cacophonous roar of Republic and Separatist capital ships blowing holes of death into each other in-atmosphere, and the resulting blast of dust and debris when they collapsed from their lofty positions in the sky down into the battlefront like massive meteorites, wiping out thousands of Republic troopers and Separatist droids.

When the starships fell from the sky and all went dark, he awoke sometime later in a delirium. Three years of warfare reached out and caught him by the arm, and so with his lightsaber he severed it. And when that was done, he tried to kill it, for he had come to _hate_ war, and in his derangement war had become a person. And that person wore the guise of his master.

It was only after it was over that he realized what he had done.

He loved his master whom had taught him everything he knew, whom had been his guiding light since he was twelve years of age; whom had been like a father to him. And there his master was in the dust-blown grass with his arm laying beside him and a lightsaber burn through his heart. 

The Jedi were meant to be peacekeepers, not generals of armies or conceivers of chaos. The Clone War was a mistake. And for a moment in that confused mind of his he thought he could solve the problem for not only himself, but for everyone. But, instead, his mind betrayed him. And now his master was dead.

For two months while the war continued without him, Ardr was relearning how not only to be a human being again, but a Jedi as well. He spent many long hours in meditation with Yoda and the other council members trying to rebuild the foundation of his mind that had splintered. And though the small green master was helpful, patient, and wise, the attempt at rehabilitation proved to be a fruitless task.

Ardr knew he had simply seen and endured too much to ever be trusted with a lightsaber again. The Council, he sensed, would never return him to active duty as a Jedi; would never again assign him tasks of importance. He would never achieve the rank of master, nor take on a Padawan. They would relegate him to simple assignments such as research, community outreach, or archival work. At the tender age of twenty-one he would be retired; a living reminder to others that even a Jedi can break.

Afterward, Ardr tried to take his own life and failed even at that. As he lay in the temple’s infirmary, barely alive, he received a visit he didn’t expect. The loud obnoxious beeping machines monitoring his vitals made sleep nigh impossible. He was trying to reach out with the Force to crush the machines with his mind, but commanding the Force in such a state made him feel woozy and sick. It was when the wooziness began to fade that an old man whose face seemed tired and thinly drawn entered the room. The doors slid shut behind him.

It took Ardr’s drug-addled mind several moments before he recognize who the man was.

“Dear boy,” said the man, placing a gentle hand on Ardr’s forehead. Oddly, the touch seemed to revitalize him enough for him to open his eyes a little wider. “I am so sorry all this has happened to you. Such a terrible tragedy. It has been a very long time since a Jedi has tried to take his own life … yet who can blame you? The days are full of war, the nights full of relentless nightmares, and the Jedi aren’t what they once were. Neither, I fear, is the Republic. Even I, dear boy, can relate to the hopelessness you have come to feel.”

The machine pumped air into Ardr’s lungs. He could feel the device within his chest, bloating his lungs unbidden. He could not reply.

The room was dark, lit only by dimmed lowlights. The galaxy’s most powerful and influential man sat beside the bed and gazed with anguish at the state of the young man, patting his hand sympathetically. Had he sacrificed a part of his immensely busy schedule to come pay respects to a lowly Jedi? The shock of it caused Ardr’s heart to beat faster; the monitor’s beeping intensified.

The supreme chancellor’s wispy white hair was swept back over his head, and there were hints of dark red bags hanging beneath his eyes. His voice was low and sonorous. “I know you have been rather vocal about your opinion on the war, my friend. There are many of your peers who agree with you, especially about the Jedi’s role in all of this.” Palpatine reached forward, touched Ardr’s shoulder and smiled. “You are not alone. In fact, I foresee it will be Jedi like you who will soon pave the way forward into a _new_ era, once this nasty war concludes.” The lowlights of the dark room twinkled in his eyes. “And it _will_ conclude _soon_ , my friend, I assure you.”

Standing to his feet, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine seemed to suddenly tower over the bed. Even though he was really just a wiry old man in regal robes, he commanded an air of crowning authority. 

“I’ve been informed that you will be mobile soon,” said Palpatine cheerfully. “And when you are, I have an important task for you.” He clutched the Jedi’s shoulder again, this time with a much firmer grip. His cheeriness faded, replaced with a grimmer tone. “One that only a Jedi such as yourself is suited for. Tell no one about it.”

The private comlink the chancellor provided him beeped days later and the encrypted message within instructed him to travel to a building in the largely-abandoned Industrial Sector of the planet. He had recovered much of his strength those last days. Ardr had a renewed desire to continue living having received an important secret mission from the supreme chancellor himself. The _council_ may not have trusted him with matters of importance anymore but the _chancellor_ must have thought differently, and Ardr was eager to prove that he wasn’t a liability.

Thick smog hung over the flat sector of Coruscant which turned the sunlight into a sickly amber. The Jedi’s small vessel dipped into the building and lowered onto the floor within. When he exited, a man in dark robes awaited him.

“Good, good,” said the cowled man. “Welcome, my friend.”

When the man raised his head slightly, Ardr saw that it was the supreme chancellor. “Chancellor Palpatine,” he said with surprise. Where was his retinue of guards? Why was he here alone? Didn’t he have a war to conduct?

“I’m glad you came,” Palpatine said, ushering him in through a door nearby, and into a dark corridor. “This is a delicate time and we must hurry if the Republic is to survive.”

“Survive?” asked Ardr. “What do you mean?”

“It is … the Jedi,” said the chancellor, his voice becoming heavy with … fear? Worry? Doubt? He side-glanced at Ardr as they continued though the hallway and Ardr could see his inner eyebrows drawn upward, and his eyes drooping sadly. “This may be hard to hear, my dear boy. But the Jedi … are planning to betray the Republic and myself. It seems you were _right_ , my friend. The Jedi have truly lost their way. Their faith in the senate and the courts has all but evaporated, I fear, and they believe I have amassed too much power — power given to me by a democratic _vote_ , no less. But it would seem democracy no longer suits them. As you know, I have used the power given to me _responsibly_ in order to protect the Republic and its people against the Confederate of Independent Systems, but the Jedi do not see it this way. They are plotting even now to undermine my efforts to bring this war to its conclusion, and in my place, they will seek to install themselves as leaders of the Republic. I fear they are no longer the peacekeepers of the galaxy as they have been for thousands of years … but something _else_ entirely now. ”

“I … don’t understand, Chancellor,” said the Jedi. “What do you mean the Jedi are going to betray the Republic? The council would never—”

“ _Think_ for just a moment,” said the man. “The Jedi Order has amassed considerable power in the last three years since the war began. They have grown accustomed to being generals of legions and conquerors of worlds. And like all who come into great power, they are afraid to _lose_ it.” They entered into a large warehouse stocked with water and food supplies, as well as a holoscreen that was currently tuned to the HoloNet News. “I am willing to give back the emergency powers given to me by the senate once this war is done,” he continued. “But let me ask you, are you absolutely sure the Jedi will do the same with the power they have so carefully cultivated?” The chancellor lowered his intimidating dark hood, revealing but a tired old man. “Did you know it was a Jedi that placed the order for a clone army over a decade ago? They have been planning this for a long time, I suspect….” 

“I … I don’t know….”

Palpatine patted Ardr’s shoulder, just as he had done in the temple’s hospital. “In the days that follow, I want you to remain here where it is safe. You and other Jedi like you, who have lost faith in your order, are exemplars of the virtues the _other_ Jedi have _lost_. I assure you that in a matter of days you will see for yourself how right I am.”

“You have proof that the Jedi are planning treason against the Republic?” asked Ardr.

With a sad sigh, Palpatine nodded. “I do, dear boy, I do. And it makes my heart hurt to think of what must be done. But it must be done regardless, and we must pray the innocent people of our great society don’t get caught in the crossfire.”

Palpatine turned to leave. “I must insist that you not leave this room, nor make contact with anyone, not even your Jedi brothers and sisters.” He stopped at the door and turned to look at him. “You are wise to mistrust them, Ardr. After all, it is _they_ who are to blame for what happened to your master. One day, I hope you will stop blaming yourself for _their_ failures.” 

______________________________ 

Days later, it all happened just as the chancellor said it would.

He watched it all happen on the HoloNet News. The reports of a Jedi coup in which they attempted to assassinate the chancellor, and the subsequent military reprisal of the Republic against the Jedi Temple. He saw live holofootage of an explosion grip the temple’s outer wall, and the fire and smoke that billowed from it. There were headlines after headlines describing the shocking turn of events happening all across the galaxy: how the clone troopers had been instructed to kill the Jedi that commanded them. Within the Force, Ardr could feel them dying by the thousands.

He thought maybe he should feel sad for their passing, but instead he felt only relief. When Supreme Chancellor Palpatine stood in front of the senate with the entire galaxy watching, Ardr held onto every word:

“ _…And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled_ ,” the chancellor declared as the senate cheered. “ _The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated. The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed. But I assure you, my resolve has never been stronger! In order to ensure the security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire! For a safe and secure society._ ” The senate went wild with applause.

Ardr remained in the warehouse as he was told for days, glued to the holoscreen, waiting. Meditating. Trusting in the Force. He had begun to think that Emperor Palpatine had forgotten him, but when the door slid open unexpectedly and the dark-cloaked old man entered, he felt foolish for ever thinking so.

The Emperor’s broadcasted speech had shown how his encounter with the Jedi assassins had left him deformed and feeble, but seeing it in person was far more unsettling. His skin seemed almost melted, like slag from lava dripped and dried over a skeleton. _How could the Jedi have done this?!_ he thought, feeling rage igniting hotly over his kin. He wanted so badly to have been there, to have prevented the Jedi — his own brothers and sisters — from harming an old man as they did. Even though Ardrhad begun to suspect that Palpatine wasn’t just _simply_ an old man. There was more to him than he was letting on.

With the Emperor came a flank of guardsmen garbed in red, and one of them came bearing a box.

“My Emperor.” Ardr felt himself sink to the floor.

The Emperor came to stand beside the windows overlooking the desolate district beyond: endless flat rows of abandoned buildings, warehouses, and factories belching pollution into an already over-polluted world. 

“You were right, my lord,” continued Ardr from his kneeling position. “You were right about all of it.”

“Yes,” said the cowled leader of a new era. His voice was gravelly and raspier than it had been before, no doubt thanks to the Jedi. Ardr had thoughts about just what happened during the assassination attempt that could have altered him in such an unnatural way. “And your loyalty to me will be rewarded.”

The guard with the box came forward and presented it to Ardr, who stood to receive it. It was heavier than he thought, made of some sort of black stone. Obsidian, perhaps. As he looked closer, there were archaic engravings across its lid. “What’s this, my lord?”

“Your destiny,” said Palpatine, turning to watch him. His eyes were yellow and sickly, and Ardr found them hard to look into. Ardr placed the box down and slid open the stone lid. Within it was red armor unlike anything he had ever seen. And resting beside it was a circular, double-bladed lightsaber hilt. “The Jedi are defeated, but not extinct. Across the galaxy are survivors of my great purge, and to hunt them down and destroy them, I have created a program comprised of former Jedi who, like you, never lost their way as the other Jedi did, and have instead remained loyal to me. You are _not_ the first of your kind, but you are special.” The Emperor gestured toward the armor. “Put it on. Let me see how it fits you.”

One of the red royal guards stepped forward to assist. First came the chest piece, and then the gauntlets, the boots, the grieves. And lastly, the helmet. He felt encased and somehow invincible within it. All red, the armor seemed both ancient and new, as though it were an antique brought out of history and updated. The in-helmet display lit up with electronic readings.

“Good,” said the Emperor, crossing his gnarled hands together. “Very good. The other Inquisitors will wear black, but you, my friend, will wear red. For you are now the Red Brother, and I have specific assignments for you that will not always involve hunting down Jedi survivors.”

“Who are the Inquisitors, my lord? And what then is my purpose?” Ardr’s voice was sent through a vocoder program inside the helmet, and the resulting voice was haunting and coarse. 

“The Inquisitorious is a project of mine long in the making, comprised of former Jedi who, like you, discovered the sickness that infected the Jedi Order. They are loyal to me and my apprentice, and to my new empire, and will root out the surviving Jedi once and for all.” He paused, reading the Red Brother. “As for your purpose, I will ask first what you know of your heritage.”

“Only that I am a near-human from a world called Kaasar,” stated the Red Brother in his new mechanized voice.

“Yes.” The Emperor seemed pleased. “The Jedi records are incomplete about your parentage, yet I sense a greater mystery is at play. One relating to the dark side that surrounds your planet, and the ancient secrets held there.” Folding his gnarled hands together, the cowled ruler once again faced the window that overlooked the industrial desolation. 

“The dark side?” asked Ardr.

“Don’t be naive.” The Emperor’s voice became snarly and grave. “You are not fool enough to be ignorant of what I am.”

Ardr in these last few days had come to have suspicions about Palpatine. For instance, how could a helpless old man such as he survive an assassination attempt led by a team of Jedi? Unless he had a knowledge of the Force the Jedi didn’t. Knowledge of the dark side. The Sith were the ancient enemies of the Jedi. The Jedi subscribed to the light side of the force, whereas the Sith commanded the dark side of it. Though the Sith were thought to be eradicated a thousand years ago, that proved to be untrue when the one known as Darth Maul fought and killed the Jedi master Qui-Gon Jinn on Naboo over a decade ago. The Sith survived. Or, rather, they were reborn. He felt the desire to ask, but somehow he got the feeling that it wasn’t any of his business.

“You are the Sith Lord the Jedi were hunting.”

“Again, your wisdom serves you well,” said the Emperor after a passing moment. The man behind the cowl seemed to be appraising him several layers deep. “ _You_ are not Sith, however. My apprentice, Darth Vader, will help refine you and the other Inquisitors in combat techniques. You were trained and taught by the Jedi, and though their skills with the lightsaber and with the Force were apt, it was ultimately flawed. Vader will resculpt you. And you, by nature, will learn to use the dark side of the Force. But you will _never_ be Sith. We are beyond your comprehension. We are your masters forever. Do you understand the order of things?”

Such was the power exuding from the Emperor’s words that Ardr felt himself falling to his knees yet again. “Completely, Your Highness.”

The Emperor seemed pleased. “The Jedi Archives contain incomplete knowledge of Kaasar. The Jedi attempted to study the planet and the dark side locus there for years, but found little of note. There is one Jedi still living who has been there. I believe you are acquainted.”

Red Brother snapped his head up. “He survived?”

“Indeed,” answered the Emperor. “But before I send you on this errand, it is time for you to meet your _new_ brothers and sisters.” Suddenly the Emperor laughed; it was a cold cackle that raised the hair on Ardr’s arms. “And when that is done, your hunt for your former friend, Tesran, will begin.”

_______________________________ 

Hasler Jak was enjoying a smoky Corellian whiskey, neat, on the veranda of her tropical palace overlooking the ocean. The blueness of the full moon was scattered across its choppy surface giving it an azure luster, and though the picturesque scene appeared to engross her, it was evident her mind was elsewhere. There was the faintest hint of unhappiness on her lips. She wore a pale, thin bodice of flowing silk that whipped in the cool breeze coming off the ocean, and her grey hair was pulled back into a messy yet eloquent tail that sat high on the back of her head. A half-moon crescent necklace adorned her chest. She was gorgeous; an older woman whose aesthetic glow outshone the beauty of the much younger women present.

All around the spacious veranda were ornately-chiseled stone statues and fountains, and gardens of fragrant flowers in full blossom. And among all of that were the rich supplicants of a powerful woman; each of them vying for but a moment of Hasler’s attention. But Hasler Jak seemed to care more about the wind on her face than she did of the party. After a while, she held up a hand and the soft music coming from somewhere across the greens stopped mid-note. Guards began ushering the guests out until everyone, including themselves, were gone.

All that was left was the briny breeze, a pirate lord, a bottle and two glasses. She stole her eyes back from the beauty of the watery horizon and refilled her glass, then poured a second.

“Do you like whiskey?” she asked the night air. She finished her pour and left the drink on the spindle. 

The night air answered. “Only if it’s Corellian. Although Pijali whiskey’s pretty good, too.” When Tesran came to lean on the railing beside her, drink in hand, she smiled for the first time that night. “Nice place you got here. Last time I was in the system, my master and I were stuck in an ugly room in the spaceport arguing with the holograms of four obstinate pirate lords.”

Hasler grunted with amusement. “We were protective during the war,” she stated, gesturing to the magnificent setting around them. “And still are. It is peaceful here, and peace is hard to come by these days.”

“And now that the war’s over?” Tesran asked, taking a gentleman’s sip at the vintage whiskey. It left a delicious spicy flavor on his lips.

The pirate lord turned her blue eyes on Tesran. The smile was gone. “The war?” she stated. “The war is just beginning.” Before Tesran could even muster a confused reply, she switched gears. “I’m sorry about your master.” She set down her full glass and again trained her eyes on some distant point along the vast ocean. “You’ll never know _how_ sorry. Despite my misgivings about the Jedi, what happened to them was a tragedy, and what’s happened to the Republic is even worse.”

Tesran frowned and he, too, set down his drink. “Thanks.” They stood in silence for a while while Tesran remembered the dead. His master. His friends. Master Yoda and all his teachers and mentors through the years. They were the only family he had ever known. That hole in his chest, the one he felt when he was escaping the temple, was still there; still painful; still tender and unfillable. “You know, earlier, when I was watching you out here with your guests, I couldn’t be one-hundred percent sure it was you. During our negotiations, you wore a weird cowl that covered most of your face.”

“What gave me away?”

“Your stiff demeanor,” he stated.

For the second time that night, Hasler Jak smiled. “I’ve been told this before,” she said, taking her drink in-hand again. “Not everyone can have a sense of humor like you, Tesran Hunt.”

“Yeah, well,” Tesran rubbed at the tension in the back of his neck. “That well’s run dry these days. Say, where’s your pirate lord friends? I was hoping to—”

“—Dead,” she stated simply as she sipped her whiskey. “I killed them.”

“Oh.” Tesran’s eyebrows lifted as high as they would go. Then he puffed up his cheeks and let the air out in a dramatic token of relief. “Well, can’t say I’ll miss those old, whinging pirates. But I can’t say, as a Jedi, I approve of their murder either.”

“You can negotiate with me now, if you’d like. But I don’t think that will be necessary.” She turned her eyes to the Jedi. “I know what you’ve come here for. You, your son, and your droid are welcome here for as long as time allows. Soon you will be joined by someone familiar to you, and he’ll be welcome as well.” Her arms opened out toward the sea. “This will be your refuge against the Empire. _For now_. But I have need of your skills in the meantime, Tesran. The deal we made allowing the Republic to utilize the hyperlane through my system was predicated on the war. Now that the war is concluded, the deal expired, but the Empire will want to negotiate a new deal … one more permanent. Bygone is one of several major gateway systems that exists between the Mid Rim and Outer Rim. The Empire will want to control it for themselves. You and your family can remain here as long as you promise that you’ll help my people when the time comes.”

Tesran blinked five times. “I have to be honest, I thought this negotiation would be _way_ harder.”

For the third and final time that evening, the pirate lord allowed a smile and shrugged a hand. “The benefits of a monarchy,” she said. “I no longer have to consult or share power with anyone but myself. So, do we have a deal, Tesran Hunt?”

“Let’s see,” Tesran feigned an arduous calculation. “Help protect innocent refugees and reclusive pirates, or be eaten somewhere out _there_ in space by Imperial wolves?” He tapped his lightly bearded chin with a finger, then extended a resolute hand. “Deal. I’m yours.”

They shook, the finality of their partnership sealed not only with their hands, but with a look of measured confidence: blue eyes staring in the blueness of the other. They raised their glasses in toast, and when the whiskey hit his belly, Tesran said, “Please tell me this familiar friend you spoke of is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I could really use his help right about now.”

Hasler Jak raised an eyebrow. “Looking for someone to pawn the child off on already?”

Tesran would be lying if he said no. But he would also be lying if he said yes. And he wasn’t at all surprised the pirate queen knew about Koda. “I’m adjusting,” he said in a playfully grumpy tone. “That’s all.”

“Yes,” said the pirate lord mutedly, her eyes now cast toward the wind-blown clouds. “Nothing prepares you for parenting. It requires the biggest adjustment of all, but you will be a good father, Tesran. I know you will. The fact that you are scared of it, proves it.”

“He’s not really my son, you know,” said Tesran. “He’s a youngling from the temple.”

Hasler Jak turned her moonlit face from the sky to look at him. “Is he?”


	4. Exodus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bresaln takes drastic actions; Sindr flees his planet toward a hopeful reunion; Tesran and Koda bond.

CHAPTER FOUR  
EXODUS

Bresaln’s advancing pregnancy did little to impact his mobility, especially in the fiery passion of his and Uldr’s intermingled bodies. He was furious at Sindr’s escape and needed somewhere to put that anger, and so he put all eight inches of it inside of Bresaln. Uldr admitted that he felt somewhat repulsed about the swelling belly of his consort. A large navel extruded from its apex; round and pregnant in its own way, and the skin was tightly stretched and awkward. His swollen state did fill Uldr with a modicum of pride, however. It was a reminder of his own virility and his ability to continue a thousand-year-old dynasty. Their child would be the crowning, precious jewel that would anchor Uldr’s rulership over Kaasar for the entirety of his life. He would be beautiful and deadly, just like his sire. 

Bresaln was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man in all of the six clans, but Uldr yearned for the days when Bresaln was … smaller. “Your belly is too fat,” Uldr grunted, driving his length into his consort as much as was possible without Uldr’s tight torso bouncing against a very pregnant belly. “Turn over.”

“No,” stated Bresaln. “I’m almost finished, keep going.”

The Presark-King sharply sighed, but carried on with his sexual rhythms until his body neared climax and his eyes closed in anticipation of unburdening his seed. He was so _close_ to his release of pleasure when he felt a sudden warmth from his side. A wet warmth that spilled down his right ribcage, followed by a piercingly acute pain.

His eyes flew open as the agony slowly — then quickly — crashed over him, causing his rhythmic thrusts to become sloppy and slow. His thrusts withered; all effort to achieve pleasure dying second by second as his body continued to yearn for release, while his mind searched for a probable cause for the pain. His vision went white momentarily as he lifted his right arm over his head and craned his head toward his ribs.

It was there he saw a curved, ornate knife plunged between his ribs. The crimson flow warmed his skin down to his naked hip, dribbling from there down his leg and onto the bed in which Bresaln laid. Their eyes found one another. Bresaln was watching him with conflict etched upon his tightly-knit brows and terse, pretty lips. It was an expression of pain and fury — and satisfaction.

“What … what have you….?” Of a sudden, he found it hard to breathe.

Bresaln’s fury exploded into action. Nearing birth as he was, he sat up and used his forward momentum to push a shocked Uldr backward, off the bed and sprawling onto the floor. The knife was still embedded in his ribs, sending a fresh wave of unbearable pain through his core on impact.

_You bitch…!_ Uldr tried to shout, but his voice gurgled deep in his lungs. _Help! Guards!_ His dry lips mouthed the words as he bled. On the floor, blood pooling warmly beneath him, he tried to reach for the knife that was stuck inside him. He would kill the traitorous whore with it, and he would plunge it deep into his lover’s heart. But as he looked up and over the globular womb of his unborn child and into the face of his consort who hovered over him like a ravenous rancor, a heavy stone object crashed down upon his face.

His last thought was one of defiance; that he, heir of Talgr, blood son and scion of the God-King Ravgr himself, would never allow himself to be killed in such a pathetic way. But the thought was fleeting as darkness fell over his vision like a pall.

________________________

Bresaln returned the stone vase back to the corner of the room and slid the long, slender flower stalks back within it. They were delicate orchids from the western valleys of his homeland; his favorite. For a moment, the orchids looked brighter than they ever had, and in the madness of the moment, he felt as though he could admire them forever.

Quickly, he returned to the bed and spread out onto his back, opening his legs into the airto resume the position he had been in. He inhaled, then screamed at the top of his lungs. It was a horrifying sound; like that of a Kaasari father in full labor of his child. “Guards!” he shouted, filling his lungs and emptying them again and again in forced panic. He felt tears coming to his eyes. They came easy as he thought of Volokr. Sweet Volokr: Dead at the top of Abadn’s Gate. Kind Volokr: A man who had waited all of his life to love a man he never would fully have, a father who would never hold his child. Dead Volokr: Murdered at the hands of his lord. The tears were for him.

The guards burst in with their spears at the ready, taking in the scene like trained hunters. They were shocked at the bloody sight before them. Bresaln had to admit that there was more blood than he realized, and he was doused quite thoroughly in it himself.

Pointing towards the balcony overlooking a beautiful, golden, hopeful sunrise, Bresaln screamed and sobbed at them. “He went that way!” His face was red as he gathered the sheets about him to protect his pregnant, innocent nakedness from the horrors of the ‘assassination’ that just took place. Both guards swept through the long windblown curtains and outside onto the expansive balcony, searching for the assassin. Two additional guards stormed into the room and knelt at the body of their fallen Presark.

“Is he alive?!” Bresaln wailed loudly, mustering all the concern that he possibly could.

“He needs the Torn Sor Kaa,” said one of the guards, an older man with white in his beard that Bresaln knew as Hagare, one of Uldr’s most loyal men. Hagare plucked the knife from the wound and plugged the gushing gash with a hand. He turned to the one beside him. “Find the Torn and bring them here at once. Secure the palace! No one leaves or enters until our Presark is tended to.”

“It was an assassin wearing dark tattoos on his face,” Bresaln cried into the sheets. “Tattoos of snakes!”

The older guard nodded toward the other. “Go!”

As the guard vanished down the hall, Bresaln continued. “He came from nowhere wielding _that_.” He pointed at the bloodied knife on the floor. “The Presark and I were enjoying each other’s … company …” he explained shyly. “We never saw him coming.” He sat straighter, mustering his emotions, wiping his eyes dry.

The remaining guards glanced at one another. “It’s possible the assassin jumped into the lake below and survived, though from this far up … it’s doubtful.”

Hagare didn’t seem convinced as he searched Bresaln’s face suspiciously. “You’re lying.”

Before Bresaln could deny the claim, the guard stepped forward and snatched him violently by the shoulder, pulling him from the tangled sheets and onto the floor. Bresaln and his awkward, heavy body barely found footing as the older man overpowered him. “Captain Volokr of the palace guard is dead and our Presark has been attacked. I guess it falls to _me_ to get to the bottom of this, and I know damn well you aren’t as _innocent_ as you seem.”

_______________________________

Sindr was colder than he had ever been in his entire life. On Kaasar there were no winters, and the only cold parts of the world were in the polar regions where no only heathen tribes dwelled far from Kaasari civilization. In Etreskl’s old starship, wrapped in a thick fur blanket, Sindr had watched from the viewport as his green and blue planet shrank behind them and the stars opened ahead, until it became a twinkling star of its own. He felt sick. Not because he was flying through space for the first time or because of the artificial gravity that kept his feet firmly on the ship’s floor, but because he felt like he was abandoning his people. He was leaving them to suffer beneath the iron rule of his mad, power hungry brother.

When Sindr returned, he wondered — feared — what sorry state he would find his people in, and if they would ever forgive him for leaving. He would prove his innocence one way or another, depose his brother, and explain the reason why he left to begin with and hope they would see why he had no other choice. He thought of what Haln would say, and could almost hear his voice in his head saying that staying on Kaasar, even hidden in Etreskl’s cave, surviving in the wilderness beyond Abadn’s Gate would end in one way: with Sindr’s death, and likely Etreskl’s as well. And dying was the only sure way that he would _never_ save his people.

Out here amongst the stars there was hope. He would find Tesran and their son. Koda. _Koda._ _He has a name,_ he thought with a smile. _And he’s with his father._ The knowledge that his son, his lost son, was with Tesran was an utter relief. But it was also equally worrying and infuriating how the man who left him, pregnant and alone, ended up in the possession of the the child Sindr dreamed of day and night. The one person he missed with every aching muscle and bone in his body; the child he carried in his womb for nine months and birthed in veritable agony.

When they found each other at last, maybe Tesran would have answers that Sindr did not about what truly happened the night Koda disappeared from his crib. Whatever the reason was, Sindr would be glad to have Koda back. Perhaps he and Tesran would both return to Kaasar with him. Tesran, despite abandoning Sindr and their unborn child five years ago, might be willing to fight in order to help Sindr regain the World Throne. He was a Jedi with extraordinary powers and abilities, and a sword made of fire, just like the God-King Ravgr once wielded, though it was said Ravgr’s lightsword was red in color, not blue like Tesran’s. Uldr and all the warriors of Kaasar couldn’t stand against a Jedi, Sindr thought. _We will cast my brother down and rule Kaasar together in peace, maybe even as a family_. All of that and more depended on Tesran and how he would answer when Sindr asked him why he abandoned his pregnant lover.

“Are we there yet?” asked Sindr, entering into the starship’s cockpit where the old man sat behind the controls. Through the viewport were nothing but distant stars speckled across the sky in all directions, and if it weren’t for the rumbling of the ship’s engine beneath his feet Sindr could’ve sworn they weren’t moving at all. Days were hard to measure in space, but according to Etreskl, they had left Kaasar four days ago. Time was a blur. On the planet’s surface he could measure days and nights by the sun and the moons’ cycle, but out here….

“We will be in range of the hyperspace buoy soon,” said the blind old man. Thin and wiry, he too was draped in an old fur blanket that stank of mildew.

“What’s hyperspace again?”

“It allows a starship to jump through vast distances of space,” Etreskl said. Even though he was blind he was surprisingly good at knowing where the controls of his starship were, but that did little to assuage Sindr’s apprehension of allowing a blind man to pilot the ship. There were no other alternatives, though, seeing as Sindr had never flown in a starship before, and Etreskl was legendary on Kaasar for his unnatural powers. He was the Torn Sor Kaa’s greatest and most powerful member in centuries, and knew how to use the same magik that the God-King Ravgr used. Tesran had tried to explain that a thousand years ago, Lord Ravgr was probably tapping into an aspect of the Force, and probably was a Sith Lord — which was some sort of religious order devoted to the dark side of the Force. But the whole idea of such a thing was heresy. Ravgr was a god. Not a supposed Force-user.

While Sindr’s mind deviated, he realized Etreskl was still talking. “There are hyperspace buoys installed throughout civilized space that stabilize ‘lanes’ for travel, so you can jump from one place to another in a short amount of time.” Sindr was confused and had a hundred questions about what he just said, but Etreskl continued. “The first time the Jedi arrived in this system to study your people, they installed buoys along the way so they could come and go easier on successive journeys. The problem is that your planet is surrounded by a shifting, unpredictable nebula that is, well, dangerous. The Kaasari believe the nebula is sentient.”

“You speak of Kaamotras, God-King of the Sky and Warder of the Stars,” said Sindr. “Lord Ravgr created it long ago to protect us from the threat of dangerous starborn.”

“The very same,” said Etreskl. “Myths aside, there is no evidence that the nebula is anything but a nebula. Anyway, the Jedi dropped the buoy way out here, days’ travel from Kaasar, so as to not allow the buoy to be damaged by nebula.”

Sindr settled into the co-pilot’s chair nestled warmly into his furs. “So what happens when we reach this ‘buoy’?”

Etreskl tapped one of the readings on the console joyfully. A smile spread across his crooked, yellow teeth. “You’re about to see, lad,” he said, buckling himself into the seat’s harness. “Strap in! And try not to spew the rancor jerky you ate. Me and my hound hunted that beast for five days.”

“You’re worse than my father,” grumbled Sindr, remembering how his father would ensure his sons finished their entire plates at every meal, until their bellies were fit to burst, even long after they reached adulthood. ‘ _My sons are strong, and strength requires food!_ ’ he would say. The memory made him smile. “Where is your vornskr anyway?”

“Freyr? He is a creature of the wild.” Sindr thought he heard a note of sadness in the man’s voice. “He will be waiting for me when I return. Good old dog, very faithful.”

Sindr thought of Ebindr, his beloved and loyal tharroc who had borne him and Haln from Abadn’s Gate and through the jungle beyond. How he wished he could have fit the fox-bird into Etreskl’s ship, but alas, this old hunk of junk wasn’t large enough, and the old man was adamant that they don’t try. Ebindr seemed to understand that Sindr would return one day, and flew alongside the starship into the upper reaches of the atmosphere until the beast was forced to fly back. Though it was impossible, Sindr thought he could hear the bird’s lament as it was left without its master.

Secured within his chair, Sindr watched in awe as the old man manipulated a lever forward on the dash and the blackness of space and all its speckled stars accelerated into an infinite blue tunnel encased within starlines. The blue-white of hyperspace splashed across Sindr’s face and twinkled brightly in his eyes. He felt himself smiling widely. For all the agonizing days of crawling through space and feeling as though he wasn’t going anywhere, _now_ he felt it! He felt himself hurtling through the galaxy, closer and closer toward Tesran and Koda.

“How long now?” he asked.

“Hm, well the Kaasari system is deep within Wild Space,” he said, leaning back into his seat and tightening his grey blindfold over his eyes. “We should reach the edge of the Outer Rim in less than a day. We’ll refuel at a small outpost on Batuu. And from there, we’ll be a small jump from Bygone.”

“By-gone?” Sindr sounded out the word. “That’s where Tesran and my son are?”

Etreskl nodded. “Ever seen sand, lad?”

Sindr stared at the man as if he had been egregiously attacked. “There _are_ beaches on Kaasar, old man.”

“True enough,” Etreskl grumbled. “But I mean _real_ sand, lad. A world _full_ of fine, powdery sand surrounded by oceans vast and deep! Bygone has always belonged to pirates, since the days of the Old Republic, and every pirate has their treasure. Well, the planet itself _is_ their treasure. You’ll see for yourself soon. It’ll be your home for a while. A nice home for you and my son.”

Sindr looked at the old man beside him. “Your son?” Then it seemed to dawn on him. From this angle, Sindr’s eyes could trace the familiar shape of Etreskl’s forehead, nose, lips and chin … “You mean….”

Nodding slowly, Etreskl cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said solemnly. “Tesran is my son. Koda, my grandson. We are made kin, you and I, through your connection with my son.”

“Then … Tesran is Kaasari like us?”

Etreskl laughed aloud. It was a clipped, beleaguered sound, almost like a cough. “I am human, born in Wild Space. No, I’m not Kaasari. And neither is my Tesran.”

_His_ Tesran, Sindr noted. The man cared for his son, even though living far away from him was a strange way to show it. “You’re not Kaasari?” It seemed suddenly outrageous to think that the Torn Sor Kaa had once been led by an off-worlder. “Then … how did you come to live on my planet for so long? And become the famous leader of the Torn Order? Who taught you how to use the…”

“…the power of your _god_?” Etreskl asked, enunciating _god_ in a way Sindr didn’t appreciate and almost found offensive. “Or as the Jedi would call it: the Force? Or as my people would call it: the Tide? It’s a long story.”

Sindr gestured out the viewport. “We’ve got the time.”

The old man sighed wearily. His old, leathery hands folded together on his lap as they relinquished the controls of the ship. The blue of hyperspace wrapped around them. “Very well, lad … it all began long ago on a planet called Lew’el ….”

As Etreskl told his story, Sindr thought of Haln and how close he had come to joining him on this adventure into the stars. _You would be so amazed by this_ , Sindr thought somberly to his dead friend. Kaasari believed in the power of prayer and the idea of there being life after death, and he couldn’t help but internalize what his friend would have thought of all this. He imagined Haln’s spirit and spoke to it, though in his mind it was probably still back on Kaasar. With so much distance now between them as Sindr hurdled through hyperspace, he wondered if Haln’s spirit would hear it at all, but he continued anyway: _Your baby might have been born out here. You wouldn’t have liked that. I know how you felt about starborn visitors, including Tesran, when he was staying with us. But you would’ve still loved your starborn baby anyway. And I would’ve loved my nephew as if he were my own…._ Tears welled in his eyes, glittering in the glowing light of hyperspace like a million ignited sparks. Uncle Sindr would’ve made sure that his brother’s child wouldn’t grow to be cruel like his usurper father, but sweet like Haln. Sweet and strong, like a true Kaasari warrior. 

_I miss you, Haln, my closest friend … I will avenge you, and feed you my brother’s heart so that you and your child may rest forever until the six moons fall._

________________________________

Little blue men crossed the sand, marching in ordered rows. Their blasters were drawn and the foremost of the clone troopers, the vanguard, opened fire. Opposed was a legion of minuscule blue droids; B1 units made up the bulk of their army peppered with B2s and the rolling, shielded bug-looking type known as droideka. They too opened fire as the battle was joined. 

Koda towered above the scene with his arms folded across his chest, attempting to look like a man twenty years his age, complete with an exaggerated serious scowl. He had spent the morning swimming, but now he had a war to fight. HE-R0’s holoprojector filled the miniaturized battlefield with blue-hued crisscrossing blaster fire, complete with holo-explosions. The five year old child created castles, fortifications, and trenches out of sand, and even dug a lake nearby and filled it with ocean water — all of which the droid used to create a holoprojected battlefield for the boy’s amusement.

“The clones are winning,” Koda said to the small floating droid whose singular blue photoreceptor monitored the battle.“Their blasters are ripping the Seppies apart!” HE-R0’s projection kept pace with Koda’s narration, causing the Separatist droids to begin exploding left and right. The droid’s built-in audio output complimented the chaotic scene with the _pewpews_ of blasterfire and the _bvvammm!!_ of thermal detonations. “The Republic arrives with _more_ soldiers, led by a Jedi _General_. Master Yoda appears and destroys a hundred-fifty droids with the Force!” A tiny blue Yoda leaps out of one of the transports and into the fracas, throwing his hands up into the air, causing an enormous ripple that sweeps across the sand and decimates half of the droid army. “And now the Wookiees charge in with laser swords!”

“Wookiees with lightsabers?” a voice asked from above.

Koda whipped his head around to find Tesran hovering over him. His arms were folded and he wore a wide smile across his lips. His blonde hair was sandblasted and wet, much like Koda’s, and his bare skin was bronzed by the sun. The ocean roared against the beach beside them. “It’s a Jedi Wookiee squad,” Koda explained. “They do what Yoda tells them to do.”

“Hm, you know, I wasn’t aware Yoda had a special Wookiee task force,” Tesran said in mock astonishment, surveying the holo battlefield.

The boy frowned and stomped his foot. “Well, he _did_!” he stated firmly. “And they were the best in the _entire_ Jedi Order.”

“I would’ve liked to have seen them fight,” Tesran said, going along with the story. “We could’ve used them out there. So tell me, how does Yoda and his Wookiees win this battle?”

“Well,” began Koda, returning his attention to the projection above the sand, glad he was for once being taken seriously. “ _I_ arrive to help.”

Tesran tried not to laugh. “Well of course you do!”

A transport arrives from the sky and lands beside Yoda, and out steps the youngling garbed in Jedi robes wielding a small lightsaber.

“No! Not like that, Heero,” said Koda, turning to the droid. “I jump from way up here and then land on my feet and _then_ draw my lightsaber.”

The holoprojection rewinds, then shows a transport passing far above the battlefront with a tiny person leaping from it, falling with robes rippling around him — falling, falling, falling, falling, falling …. falling, before finally landing on his feet. As soon as he alights upon the sand, the projection version of Koda draws his lightsaber and activates it.

“Together, me and Master Yoda stand like this,” Koda enacted the stance of standing back to back with the Jedi Master. “Cause Master Yoda is small like me!” At this, Tesran smiled. They were indeed probably the same height. “And then we charge with the clones, and we fight the Seppies three at a time. I cut the head off of ten B2 droids in one swing!” HE-R0’s projection shifts to match what is being explained. It was highly amusing for Tesran to watch a youngling, even a holoprojected youngling, cause so much chaos on the battlefield. “And then … Count Dooku appears! And then Master Yoda and me stand bravely against him, just by ourselves, just like Master Obi-Wan and Anakin did on … on … on … that planet.”

“Geonosis,” Tesran supplied. “The battle that started the Clone War.”

“Mm-hm,” Koda nodded. “And then we duel for _five days_ in the sand while the clones and the droids fight each other all around us, and then we gang up on Count Dooku and take his lightsaber away and then take him into customy.”

“Custody,” Tesran corrected the boy.

“ _Custody_ ,” repeated Koda, nodding.

It was all very elaborate and heroic, Tesran thought, watching the droid’s holo changing to reflect Koda’s story. Definitely a battle summed up by a youngling, missing all the gory tidbits. There was no way a child could possibly understand what it was like to actually be in a battle such as that, even a fictitious one. No way to relate the sheer carnage of an explosion and the force and heat of it slamming against you, or smell the ozone from the blasters, or the metallic scent of blood, or the sounds of a hundred starfighters dogfighting above you; the sound of laser cannons dissipating against shields. Tesran hoped that Koda would _never_ know what those things were like. The boy had a small taste of it during their escape from the temple, but even that was nothing like the Battle of Geonosis, or the Siege of Hexxis. He prayed the Force would shield the youngling from all of that, and hoped Koda would have a normal childhood. Tesran smiled as he gently put a hand atop Koda’s sand-filled hair.

“Tell me, pal,” said Tesran, kneeling so that he was more on level with the youngling. His feet were bare and the hot sun was high above them. “Why did you and Yoda spare Dooku just now? You coulda’ killed him. Ended the entire war right then and there. After all, it was Count Dooku who was the leader of the Separatist movement.”

Koda thought about that for a moment, tilting his head and framing his chin with his fingers. “Well, because Master Yoda said that a Jedi should only use his lightsaber if he has to, and that peace is important above everything.”

Tesran’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m impressed,” he said, allowing himself to give a surprised laugh. “You actually paid attention to your lessons?” He tried to remember if he paid as much attention in Yoda’s classes at that age. It seemed so long ago now. His entire life before the war seemed but a distant memory, blurred to time and trauma.

Shifting a little on his bare feet, Koda turned to puzzle him. There was something on his mind.

“What is it?”

“Am … am I still going to be a Jedi?”

Tesran could sense Koda’s fear growing behind those blue eyes. “You’re afraid you won’t be,” he stated, understanding full well why the youngling might believe that. They had become more like refugees than Jedi.

“The Jedi are gone,” he said, the fear now spilling out from his eyes in the form of tears. “Master Yoda is gone, and all my favorite teachers and _all_ my friends and _everyone_ but you.” He started to dry his eyes with his knuckles. “You’re the last Jedi,” he stated with trembling lips. “You’re the only one who can teach me.”

“I’m not the last Jedi,” said Tesran, patting the child’s shoulder. “Master Obi-Wan’s still alive, somewhere.” _I think,_ he thought. Or he at least lived long enough to send the transmission redirecting any surviving Jedi away from Coruscant. “And probably Master Yoda, too. No one call kill that little green guy. Who knows, there could be hundreds of us out there somewhere in hiding.”

“Then why aren’t we trying to find them?”

It was a good question. The truth was more complicated. “Because … it’s dangerous,” explained Tesran. “We’ll be safe here, Ko, I promise you. One day, maybe we’ll find other Jedi and we’ll rebuild the order together, but for now I think it’s best if we hide. We mustn’t talk about the Jedi and who we are in public, and probably not in private, either, just like we talked about before.” Tesran looked at HE-R0 and grinned. “But don’t forget, we have our friend Heero with us. That counts for something, right?”

Koda bunched his shoulders together and smiled sheepishly.

HE-R0 clicked off the holoprojector that beamed from her metal half-dome head and spun in the air gleefully, whistling and booping loudly.

“But you didn’t answer.” Koda’s bottom lip protruded as his eyes were refreshed by a renewed tearful sheen. “Will I be a Jedi like you one day?”

Tesran put both hands on either of Koda’s small shoulders. “Can I be honest with you?”

The boy nodded.

“Times are uncertain right now,” Tesran said, feeling the tiny bones in the child’s shoulders; it reminded him how vulnerable Koda was, and how much he relied on Tesran’s protection. “I don’t even know if I _am_ a Jedi anymore. They’re gone and we’re what’s left. All that matters now is making it to the next sunrise.”

“Okay,” Koda nodded sadly.

Tesran clapped Koda’s shoulder and stood. “All right, Ko, you and Heero play for a while longer,” he said, turning back toward Hasler Jak’s pirate mansion behind them, which rose from the sands like an opulent fortress. According to legend, the mansion _was_ a fortress used by ancient pirates in the old days of the Old Republic. Though its defenses had been updated with newer technology, much of the original white duracrete was still intact and certain portions of it were expanded to make it more livable. It certainly lacked the luxuries of the Jedi Temple, but Tesran supposed it had its charm. “The cooks said lunch would be ready soon,” Tesran said. “You hungry?”

“Nope!” Koda said, beginning construction on a new castle in the sand.

“Well, that’s just too bad,” said Tesran. “Cause you’re gonna eat anyway. I’ll come fetch you in a bit.”

On the way back to Hasler’s Jak’s mansion, the sound of pulsing music drew Tesran to one of the fortress’s many terraces. He entered from the beach, climbing stairs to find a party in full rage. As the sun beat down upon them, half-dressed dancers and revelers frolicked together in and out of a large pool. There were over a hundred inebriated guests and in each of their hands were cocktails of every color and type. In the shade of palm trees was a cushioned chair, and in it was Hasler Jak herself wearing a flowing, light summery dress with her hair pulled upward into an elegant bun with a single curl hanging down the side of her face. She wore a peculiar necklace of a moon crescent that seemed almost to shine with its own light. It reminded Tesran of the Republic symbol. A glass of dark liquid swirled in her hand and despite the jubilee of the terrace, she was alone and not at all enjoying herself as evidenced by the scowl on her face and the look of drudgery in her eyes.

Tesran was beginning to see a pattern with the woman.

As he made his way across the terrace, several if not dozens of eyes followed him. Women and men drank from his visage as they turned to one another, whispering and giggling like school children. The crowd was made up of people from all ages, young to old, and all of them struck Tesran as being well off; beneficiaries of criminal lifestyles. He could tell by the quality of their summer attire, which was edgy and roguish, as well as flamboyant and affectatious, that these were not people who were shy and well-behaved, but rather fringe and defiant. He could sense their immorality just as easily as he could feel the breeze.

He was stopped by a Twi’lek male who inserted himself in Tesran’s way. He was tall and dark, with an eye as bright as a silver diamond. He wore nothing but a towel and an eyepatch, and his blue skin rippled with muscle. “You are….?” the man asked in a curious tone, but with body language that told Tesran the question was not rhetorical.

“Gander,” Tesran said, using his false name that he and Koda had come up with. Tesran held himself cooly in place, though his shoulders and chest were held proudly. “You?”

“Tyrbad,” the youngish man replied. “Pirate Lord of Y’sht.”

“You _would_ be.”

The man known as Tyrbad studied him with his one eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you have an eyepatch,” said Tesran. “And you’re a pirate. It’s a bad cliché.”

Tyrbad’s one bright eye flared as if with fire, but before the pirate lord made a move against Tesran, he seemed to reconsider. Tyrbad paused, turned his head slightly, and then refocused it on Tesran. “Bold talk,” the man said, placing a hand on Tesran’s bare, muscled chest. “There are few who would talk to Tyrbad, Lord of Y’sht, this way, but I will allow it if you swim with me awhile and share my bed tonight.”

“Thanks Tyrbad, Lord of Y’sht, but, you see, there’s someone else,” said Tesran. “And if I’m being honest, I’d rather choke on a Hutt’s tail.”

Tyrbad’s one good eye narrowed. “Watch yourself, Gander,” said the man. “It would be a shame if your little boy was left suddenly without a father.”

Tesran outwardly showed no emotion. He was good at that, after all. Internally, he wondered just how much this Tyrbad the Pirate Lord actually knew about his true past. If he was under the impression that Koda was his son, then perhaps he knew less than what he wanted Tesran to think. 

Tyrbad removed himself from Tesran’s path, allowing him to join Hasler Jak where she sat perched upon her cushioned throne. 

“I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Tesran said while he approached. If she was hot in the island sun, Tesran could not tell. There wasn’t a bead of sweat on her. Again, Tesran had to admire the older woman’s power, beauty, and poise. “You must really need these people.”

Hasler’s cloudy demeanor changed. Her face seemed a little brighter as she held up her glass to him and nodded over toward her own personal refreshment table. Tesran graciously took her glass, dropped a few ice cubes into it, and filled it with the bottle of Pijali whiskey. He poured a second for himself, knowing the prickly pirate wouldn’t mind. 

“Explain?” she stated. Tesran handed the glass back to her, and she sipped from it and seemed to savor the taste of it on her lips.

“It’s obvious you don’t like them,” Tesran said, gesturing toward the raveling masses while he parked himself against a nearby pillar. “I’ve seen a Loth-cat show more love for a flea.”

A heavy-set older man with a beautiful woman in each arm passed in front of them, waving and smiling as he shimmied his blubber to the beat of the pop music. “Filth,” Hasler said out of earshot of the man as she smiled and raised her glass to greet him. “They’re all filthy pirate scum lords. Especially the one you just spoke with.”

“One-Eye Tyrbad, you mean?” Tesran asked. “He’s a pirate lord? I thought you killed all your pirate lord pals.”

“I killed the ones in Bygone with whom I shared power,” Hasler stated neutrally. “But there are other prominent pirates in the galaxy, such as Tyrbad, whose uncle was one of Bygone’s pirate lords I … usurped.”

“Murdered, you mean,” Tesran said. “Violence begets violence, you know. As a J — as someone of my … profession … — I can’t condone killing for the sake of climbing ranks.”

“That’s why I’m a pirate and you’re not.”

Tesran turned towards her and raised his glass. “Anyway, Tyrbad says he knows who I am. He threatened Koda and I.”

Hasler Jak waved a hand. “What he knows are rumors.” She sipped her glass. “Little else. They know you to be my guest, but they know little else about you … except for your beauty. These people are vain. Pirates from all across the galaxy come here to relax, take vacations, plunder the hearts and bodies of the beautiful. Tyrbad poses a minor threat to me, and an even lesser threat to you and your son, but he will be dealt with very soon. To answer your question: yes, they are useful to me. Tyrbad controls Y’sht, a star system rich in shimmersilk, but little does he know his cousin is plotting with me against him. Tomorrow, Tyrbad will get drunk and go for a swim, and the riptide will wash him away, and Tyrnor, his cousin, will inherit a billion-credit empire. And then it will be Tyrnor vacationing here soon enough, and when he seeks to undermine me, it will be his sister that benefits. Do you see the cycle of scum and villainy I deal in?”

Tesran slurped his drink. “As I said, violence begets—”

“—Yet, among a galaxy full of pirate scum lords,” she continued, “The pirates of Bygone aren’t as scummy. The wealth you see here is predominantly the product of smuggling and reaving, done so with little violence and bloodshed.”

“Are you saying there’s honor among pirates?”

“These pirates, yes,” Hasler said. “Though only a trifle amount. They are pawns in a game of holochess, yet it is these pawns — of which I have amassed tens of thousands — that will die for any cause that I believe in.”

“Are you blackmailing all of them?”

“Yes.”

“You’re blackmailing tens of thousands of pirates?” Tesran asked incredulously.

“It doesn’t matter,” she stated. “As I said, they are scum. Who I really care about are the local natives living in seaside shanties who put up with our intrusive ways, and the refugees that have flooded my space station these last years. They are innocent and in need of protection. _Your_ protection as well as mine, if you remember our deal.”

“M-hm,” Tesran said. “I remember.” 

She turned to look at him, her eyes piercing and honest. “Many of them work for me now. I’ve had some in my employ for almost three years now, since the Clone War started. They lead good lives here. And when the Empire comes, Tesran … they will need you.” Her voice was clear and certain. “Not the pirate scum. But the refugees.”

Tesran was picking up what she was putting down. This vow he made was serious, and she wanted him to understand that. As a Jedi he always worked to help the innocent. “I understand, Hasler. I’ll help, no matter what. As long as you keep Koda safe.”

She smiled at him. A beautiful, white-teethed smile. “I trust you _will_ help _,_ ” she said. “And Koda’s wellness has my full attention, I assure you.” She gestured at all these others — these privileged pirates surrounding her. “In order for this system to work, I need to keep _these_ people happy. Especially the rich and powerful ones who command my fleets and my soldiers.”

Many of the attendees of this summer bash were watching them, no doubt wondering who this new upstart was who had the audacity to grant himself a private audience with their fearless leader and maintain conversation with her for as long as he had. Tesran felt their emotions in the Force. “Half of them seem to hate me, while the other half want to ….”

Hasler regarded him with amusement in her eyes. “Yes…?”

“Do … naughty … things to me.”

“You are young, handsome, and mysterious,” she said, lifting and dropping a casual shoulder. “And in prime physical condition. Walking around a den of dishonest people looking like you do would make any pirate woman lock you in her cabin and abscond with you for all time.”

Tesran glanced at Hasler. His eyebrow raised a tick. “Just the women?”

She laughed. It was the first Tesran had her laugh. It was downright shocking how pleasant it sounded.

“Is that funny?” he half-chuckled himself.

“You are nothing but true to your nature,” she said, the laughter dying as quickly as it arose. She drank long and deep from her glass and then held it up for him to refill, this time eying him with half-cocked enthusiasm … maybe even pride?

“Anyone told you you probably drink too much?” Tesran asked, swiping the glass from her hand and refilling it for her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. All mirth spent and gone. “I’ll let you be true to your nature, child,” she stated brusquely. “If you let me be true to mine.”

“Fair enough, Pirate Queen,” he said, handing her the glass. “Fair enough.”

______________________________________

That night, freshly clean and wearing light and loose robes over his bare chest, Tesran meditated on his own private terrace afforded to him by his luxurious room. A bracing breeze wrapped around him, a gift from the moons that pulled on the tides. His eyes were closed but his mind was open, spanning across the sands and the palm trees which stirred with the Living Force. He felt the minds of the birds soaring on high winds, the fish swimming through darkened waters, and the people here in the mansion and across the planet. Somewhere above in the starry sky, he could feel the lives of those on the spaceport; the refugees who continued arriving from the war-touched galaxy beyond. 

Tesran sank deeper into the Force, widening the net of his senses to his Jedi brothers and sisters who once felt like a singular living organism of connected minds. Now, he only felt the cold, broken emptiness where the bridges of their minds once joined.

As he braced against the coldness of their absence, a warmth appeared beside him; a signature in the Force that was small but … bright. He recognized Koda’s presence and felt comforted by it. The youngling came to sit close beside him.

“Are you looking for them?” Koda said quietly.

Tesran smiled, his eyes still closed. The boy was strong in the Force. “I am.”

“Did you find them?”

“No,” Tesran said calmly. He was so relaxed that his voice had dropped an octave. “But it’s best that we don’t search too hard. We don’t want to reveal ourselves to the enemy.”

“You mean the Sith?”

“Yeah,” said Tesran, ending his meditation as he opened his eyes. He looked over at the boy, whose eyes were still closed. He sat cross-legged with his open hands resting above his knees, just like Tesran. “The Sith.”

“What happens if they find us?” Koda opened his own blue eyes and as they stared at one another, there was a moment when Tesran thought he was staring at a younger version of himself. 

“They won’t,” Tesran said firmly. Almost too firmly, he thought. He shifted his tone. “Hey, don’t worry about that, all right?”

Koda pressed him. “But what if they _do_?”

Tesran motioned for the boy to scoot closer, and when he did he encased the boy with both arms as they sat side by side, staring up at the stars. “Then we’ll fly away and find a new home,” Tesran said gently. “And eventually, we’ll find a place where they’ll never find us, and we’ll be safe. Just you, me, and Heero.”

“Just us?”

“Well … hopefully a friend of mine will join us,” said Tesran, relishing the thought as he stared past the moons. “A guy named Sindr. You’ll like him, Ko. He’s … fun and full of heart, and he can climb trees faster than any person I’ve ever seen, and he hunts beasts forty times his size, and shoots a bow made of energy.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“ _Wizard._ ” But Koda’s excitement was dulled by a sleepy sound that had entered into his voice. “But where is he?”

“Wild Space,” said Tesran, allowing himself to pretend for just a few moments that the boy beside him was his and Sindr’s child. That sort of wishful thinking wasn’t at all healthy, he knew. As a Jedi attachments were forbidden, but the Council wasn’t around to enforce it and, frankly, Tesran didn’t care anymore. “We’ll go there soon. And you’ll get to see the jungles of Kaasar. It’s a beautiful world, but it’s hot. And very primitive.…”

“That’s okay,” said Koda tiredly. “As long as you’re there with me.”

A wave of emotion washed over Tesran’s facial expression. He tried to formulate a response, but for all the training the Jedi gave him, they had not trained him to be a human being comfortable with emotion. In fact, they had taught him that emotional responses were improper for a Jedi, and that suppression of emotion was important if he was to lead a life apart from the dark side. Of course, he had blown all of that when he met Sindr during his and his master’s expedition to Kaasar. And after that — after his pure relationship he cultivated with the near-human of Kaasar, he wasn’t as sure as he had been about the negative repercussions the Jedi claimed about love and attachment. The love he felt for Sindr was _pure,_ as if borne out of the Force itself. He began to think that perhaps love was the solution, and not the corrupting virus the Jedi claimed it to be. Still, emotions were difficult. And the love he felt for Koda, even after so short a time they had spent with one another, was threatening his eyes with burning tears. 

“I will always be there for you, Ko,” Tesran said through a bulging throat.

After a while longer watching the moons rise higher and higher into the night sky, Koda was fast asleep in his arms. Tesran lifted the youngling and carried him to the small bed Hasler was kind enough to arrange for Koda, and tucked him in and touched his forehead, sending a gentle, calming feeling through the Force to ease his sleep. 

HE-R0 settled down next to the boy atop the blanket and booped at Tesran.

“You can shut down for the night, Heero,” said Tesran, scratching the droid’s metal head affectionately with his fingernails. “But make sure to wake me up at dawn. I wanna go for a run in the morning.”

He retired to his own bed and the lights dimmed automatically as he sank into the pillow. The door to the terrace was open, allowing the breeze to enter and cool their chamber. He withdrew his holoprojector and keyed up the old holo of Sindr, with his brown curls, strong body, and pregnant middle. The holostill of Sindr seemed so young to his eyes now. After five years, Tesran could only wonder at what Sindr looked like now — especially without the pregnant belly. He stared at the rotating image until his eyes sagged and drooped. The sound of the ocean lulled him to sleep where he dreamed of his long lost loved one. Of sharing a bed together. Of their bodies joined, their hands wandering to places reserved only for each other. He dreamed of a child. A child with Koda’s face.

____________________________

When dark visions possessed Tesran’s mind that night and caused him to groan and pant in a fever of fear, Koda woke. He felt Tesran’s tremor in the Force: he couldn’t tell what his dreams were, but he knew they were of loss and loneliness. The Jedi were gone and Koda understood that his pretend-father felt alone. He crawled up onto the bed and began to pat Tesran’s hand, and tell him, even if Tesran couldn’t hear, that everything would be okay.

 ___________________________

In the morning, Tesran woke to a full sized hologram of Hasler Jak in his room at the foot of his bed. Koda was fast asleep beside him with his little hand inside of Tesran’s. It would’ve been a tender moment if the Pirate Queen herself wasn’t staring at them.

“Tesran,” the hologram said.

The sleepy-eyed Tesran strained his eyes against the brightness of the room. The ocean sighed in the distance. “Isn’t it a little early for house calls….?”

“There’s trouble,” Hasler’s blue-shimmering hologram stated. “How well can you fly?”

“Depends on what I’m flying.”

“Your ship,” she said. “The _Silverdark_.”

“I know him like the back of my hand,” said Tesran, sitting forward. He and his master had flown the ship together ever since he had first become Vu Sae’s Padawan. 

“Him?” Hasler asked, confused.

“The ship — it’s a … oh, whatever.” Tesran sighed. “But I’ll need a co-pilot. Why? What’s going on?”

Hasler dodged the question. “Meet me at your ship. _I’ll_ be your co-pilot.” 

As her hologram vanished, Tesran slid out of bed. By now Koda was awake and staring sleepily at him. “Stay here with Heero, all right?” Tesran told him. “And don’t you dare leave this room.”


	5. Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardr researches his surprising family connections; former lovers converge

**CHAPTER FIVE  
CONVERGENCE**

The Jedi Archives was once the greatest source of knowledge and wisdom in all the galaxy. Located within the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, it contained shelves upon shelves of holobooks, data recordings, holocrons and artifacts that were facilitated, codified, and curated by a chief librarian and revered by all Jedi, young and old. With the Jedi destroyed and their temple in the firm grasp of the Emperor, the once brightly-lit Archives were shaded in shadows. Where Jedi younglings, Padawans, knights and masters once studied in peace, murmuring in the quiet, there was only silence but for the _clumping_ sounds of Red Brother’s booted footfalls. The glowing blue of the shelves decked with holobooks shimmered softly in the benighted gloom as the Inquisitor stepped toward an empty data console in the center of the vast room.

Helmeted and garbed in the ancient crimson armor given to him by the Emperor, he loomed in the lowlights like a wraith. For a moment he stood amidst the quietude, surveying his surroundings. He had spent many long years here, studying this and that for his master. Master Ben Yooli had been a bookworm and a purveyor of history and so often sent his young Padawan on extended trips to the Archives to take notes and gather information, or collect a holocron — which was unfortunate for Master Yooli, because Ardr had proven to be abysmal in intellectual matters and pursuits, _especially_ regarding research. He would have much rather studied the seven lightsaber combat forms, or have sparred with his friends in the Padawan’s dojo. He had spent many a night going toe to toe with his best friends Tesran and Anakin, covered in sweat, panting with the exertion of real lightsaber combat. 

Looking back on it, Red Brother wondered if his intellectual ineptitude was the reason why his master continually kept him in the Archives, drowning beneath piles of holobooks. Perhaps it was Yooli’s way to help him grow and better himself as a knowledgeable and well-read Jedi.

The Jedi that Red Brother used to be would have smiled at the thought, but Red Brother only sneered. He had once struggled to come to grips with what he had done to his master, but the Emperor had shown him that slaying Yooli had been the best thing he had ever done. He had been the first Jedi Ardr had killed. He recognized now that it was the start of a purge that was well deserved and necessary. 

His eyes focused on a section of the Archives that was cordoned off. A forbidden section in which only Jedi masters could access. With Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu gone and the Jedi extinct, Red Brother grinned beneath his helmet, realizing he could access whatever forbidden data he wanted, and he began to wonder what sort of secrets the Jedi had withheld from him all these years.

As he approached the forbidden shelves, a sinister voice called out to him from above. “What brings you to _my_ library, _Red_ Brother?”

On edge, Ardr reached for his new, circular double-bladed lightsaber at his waist as he turned to looked up toward the second level of the room. The bald-headed, ashen-skinned Pau’an stared down at him with shimmering orange eyes as a floating candle-droid lit half of his face. “Grand Inquisitor,” Red Brother said by way of greeting. The modulator in his helmet made his voice sound scratchy and threatening. “I’ve been given a task by the Emperor.”

Even from this distance, Red Brother could see the derisiveness spread across his superior’s face. He slowly set aside an old holotome. “Hm, yes … I mustn’t forget that you’re His Majesty’s loyal little pet.” The tall, dark-clad Inquisitor vaulted over the railing and landed adroitly some dozen meters away. “Somehow you, of all people, have the Emperor’s ear. How? I cannot even begin to guess.” He stepped forward while he spoke with both hands clasped behind his back. “Tell me, _Red_ Brother. What makes _you_ so special? You were never very interesting before, when you were a Jedi. Until, that is …” The Grand Inquisitor stopped mere inches from Red Brother and stared down his nose at his helmeted face. “… You betrayed and murdered your master. Now that _was_ interesting.”

Red Brother said nothing. His body was unmoving, unflinching as the Grand Inquisitor’s eyes seem to pierce through his helmet. He had nothing to fear from this arrogant fool. Should the Pau’an make a move against him, he would no doubt suffer under the Emperor’s displeasure. Besides, the rumor was that the Grand Inquisitor had been nothing more than a temple guardian entrusted with the sacred duties that came with the temple’s protection. He was nothing. Why the Emperor had selected _him_ to be the Grand Inquisitor, leader of the Inquisitorious, was beyond Ardr’s reckoning.

When the silence lengthened overlong, the Grand Inquisitor laughed and moved off. “You aren’t intimidated very easily, unlike some of our _new_ brothers and sisters. Having watched you train with Darth Vader and the other Inquisitors, it is clear your talents have been well rewarded by our Emperor. The rest of them get black suits and numbers; _Second_ Sister, _Fifth_ Brother, _Seventh_ Sister, _Eighth_ Brother. But you? You get a red suit, and instead of a number, you get a color. _Red_ Brother.”

The crimson Inquisitor was growing tired of this. “Jealous?”

There was a stab and whirl of red in the gloom. Within the span of one fleeting second, the Grand Inquisitor and Red Brother had crossed and joined their red-spinning, double-bladed lightsabers and were locked in a struggle for dominance. The Pau’an’s sharp teeth were bared as the glow of their blood red blades flashed and crackled across their faces; the crimson glow only accentuating the detail of Ardr’s red helmet. “I am the _GRAND_ Inquisitor,” he spat. The spittle sizzled and popped as it struck the heat of their sabers. “You are still beholden to _me_.”

The Grand Inquisitor surged with the Force and pulled strength from it, using it to strain powerfully against Red Brother’s blade, pushing him backward. Ardr’s boots squealed against the once polished, now dusty, floor as he lost ground. Their sabers were still locked and he could feel the hum of their power vibrating up and through his gauntlets as he drew on the Force to push back. His armor seemed to augment his efforts, and the Grand Inquisitor’s own boots squeaked as Ardr drove him backward an entire foot.

Somewhere nearby, a cold void in the Force emerged.

The sensors in Ardr’s helmet picked up a shadow within the shadows looming on the railing above them. The Grand Inquisitor sensed it as well and turned his ugly face towards it, all the while their lightsabers struggled against one another.

The mechanized breath of their lord filled their ears.

_Ksshhk. Kwvvvvv. Ksshhk. Kwvvvvv._

The unmistakable sound sent a chill down Red Brother’s spine, and he felt the leer of his penetrating gaze. At once, the Grand Inquisitor and Red Brother powered down their lightsabers, turned toward him, and knelt on one knee with their heads bowed. “Lord Vader,” the Grand Inquisitor stated respectfully.

“My lord,” Red Brother said. “I was about to begin the work our Emperor set upon me.”

There was no sound but the respirator of Darth Vader’s suit for several long seconds. When his voice was heard, it was deeply monotone, and equally as sinister: “The Emperor expects a report by tomorrow.” Ardr looked up at him and saw Vader pointing at him with a gloved hand. The same gloved hand that mere days ago had wielded a fierce red lightsaber that Ardr had struggled against. The training session had ended violently for many of the Inquisitors. Some had even lost hands and other limbs. But for Ardr, it had ended in silent respect. Lord Vader seemed impressed with his combat prowess. “You will have the information prepared, and I warn you: The Emperor has less tolerance for failure than I do.”

“It will be done, my lord.”

“Grand Inquisitor,” Darth Vader said. But as he addressed the Pau’an, Ardr sensed the dark lord’s eyes not on the Grand Inquisitor, but on him as if he was peering into Ardr’s mind. For a moment, their mind’s touched, and Ardr thought there was something familiar about it. But Ardr dismissed the idea outright; whoever Darth Vader truly was beneath that mask was completely foreign. He had never met anyone with a mind as _cold_ as that, or as sinister or cruel.

The alien looked up. “Yes, my lord?”

“You will assist Red Brother with his research,” he stated. “If he cannot procure the information the Emperor requires, you will share in his failure … and any resulting consequences.”

“I … understand, Lord Vader,” sneered the alien, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. “We will begin straightaway.”

With one last round of mechanical breaths, the dark lord of the Sith turned to leave, his black cape whirling behind his impressive figure. When the threat of him was gone, they both stood and the Grand Inquisitor turned to seethe at Red Brother. “What is this task the Emperor gave you? We should get started, lest Vader take both our heads, and believe me: He would love nothing more.”

The Red Brother paused a moment, then reached up to unseal his helmet from the suit. With a hiss, the helmet unlocked and he lifted it from his head. Beneath was a pale reflection of the handsome, silver-eyed Kaasari he once was. His face had grown pallid and gaunt while dark red circles rimmed his eyes. It was as though his soul had been removed from his body and locked away, or else neglected. “His Highness is interested in a planet known as Kaasar.”

The leader of the Inquisitorious eyed him curiously. “So the study of your home planet?” The Grand Inquisitor cackled at Ardr’s surprise. “I’m in the process of studying every Jedi that lived and breathed before the Purge. Especially those who survived it and those associated with them. Family connections, persona data, etcetera.” He eyed the Kaasari with those orange, unnatural eyes of his. “I started with my fellow Inquisitors, so I might know your every strength and weakness. I wouldn’t be a capable leader if I didn’t. And if any of you were to … let’s say, have second guesses about our allegiance to our new galactic overlord….” His eyes smoldered as a merciless grin spread across his lips.

It was smart, Ardr admitted, but only to himself. “Then you probably already know more about Kaasar than I do.”

Gesturing toward a data console, the two men sat in front of it and shared the screen. The Archives were home to every detail of known history, especially relating to the Order, but extending to many aspects of the Republic going back a thousand years and more. Ardr was glad for the help, if he was being honest with himself. The task the Emperor gave him wasn’t as daunting as the tasks his old master had once given him, but it had been years since he had done any proper research. The Clone War started, he was knighted, and it had been nothing but skirmishes, battle, and bloodshed ever since.

The Pau’an keyed up the holoscreen with all known information about Kaasar, the Kaasari people, key figures, their biology, their customs, their belief systems, their way of life. There were dozens of files curated by Jedi Master Hasler Jak Hunt, Master Das Vu Sae, and Master Draesi Goy detailing their visits to the planet, including archaeological discoveries pertaining to the Force. That file in question contained a dozen documents and recordings which surmised that the planet was incredibly powerful in the dark side of the Force, and they believed that it contained a dark side nexus. After both men scanned through the files, each now using a separate terminal to do so, they concluded that the dark side nexus was the reason why the Jedi were so interested in the planet.

And also likely why the Emperor had shown equal interest.

A document written by Master Hasler Jak Hunt explained that the Kaasari artifacts gathered, along with writing on ancient stones, seemed to point towards evidence that the ancient Sith once conquered the planet close to a thousand years ago. There were references to a ‘God-King’ who established a family dynasty that remained even to this day.

The Grand Inquisitor leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. “I’ve already done some research here. Your former friend, Tesran Hunt, is caught up in all of this Kaasari business.”

Red Brother nodded. He remembered years ago when Tesran left Coruscant for Wild Space to study the planet.

“… He’s caught up in it more than you realize, I think,” stated the alien, leaning forward once more and keying up new holodata on the screen. “Notice that Tesran and Master Hasler Jak share a last name?”

The Kaasari inquisitor shrugged. “‘Hunt’ is a common family name.”

“Yes, but if you remember, all younglings who are brought to the Temple for training are registered within the Archive, and each have a genetic datafile stored alongside their records. If you access those records, which I already have, you will see….” The Pau’an hit a green button and a holoimage projected upward from the console of two double helixes, which the computer then confirmed a match between them. “They share DNA. Hasler Jak Hunt is Tesran Hunt’s mother.”

Ardr was bewildered. “You knew this?”

“Of course,” the Inquisitor said. “Tesran survived the Purge. He’s on our kill list. I’ve been looking into his past, searching for clues about where he could be hiding by looking through his history.” The alien gave Red Brother a sly grin. “It seems I’ve already done your research for you. The Emperor should have just asked _me_. Maybe I can have fancy suit now as well.

Ardr looked past him and toward the screen. “What else did you discover?”

Accessing a separate file of the Inquisitor’s own making, the alien opened the file of compiled information he had already collected on Tesran. “This is where it gets _very_ interesting,” he said. “Tesran’s mother was expelled from the Jedi Order twenty-one years ago for failing to honor the Jedi Code. In Master Yoda’s own entry, he states that Hasler Jak had fallen in love with a man from Wild Space, and was impregnated. She failed to detach, as the Code demands, and was then expelled. There are no records of who the father of her child was.”

“It’s not entirely uncommon for a Jedi to break their vows,” stated Ardr. “Though expulsions from the order are rare….”

Shrugging, the Grand Inquisitor continued. “Funny enough, Tesran was a lot like his mother.” He keyed up another file, this one on Tesran’s disciplinary record. The Inquisitor leaned back and gestured for Ardr to read it for himself.

When he finished, Ardr felt his mouth gaping. “This can’t be true. He would’ve told me this. He would’ve let it slip….” his voice trailed away as he remembered when Tesran returned from his and his master’s expedition to Kaasar, and Tesran was distant for months afterward. He remembered his friend being distracted, especially during their sparring sessions. Even Anakin mentioned that their friend was acting strange. “I can’t believe he fathered a child … and with someone from my planet, no less. But why wasn’t he expelled like his mother had been?”

“Unlike his mother, he vowed to honor his oaths to the Jedi and detach from his _boyfriend_ , so the Council forgave him. But they forbade him to return to Kaasar. After that, he and his master were reassigned. The Kaasari research was given over to Goy.” With a press of a button, a third double helix appeared beside Hasler and Tesran’s. This DNA sequence, too, was a match. “And even more surprising, five years ago, an infant was brought to the temple.”

Ardr leaned forward to study the information more closely. “Unbelievable.…”

“On the day of the Purge, Tesran Hunt escaped the temple with the boy.” A holoimage of a five year old youngling named Koda appeared. Much like Ardr, he had no last name.

“I wonder if Tesran knew…?”

“I can only imagine that he did,” stated the man. “The chances of him escaping a massacre with a random youngling that just so happens to be his son are extraordinarily low.”

They both looked at one another. Ardr knew the Grand Inquisitor was once a Jedi, though he couldn’t remember ever seeing him before. But that they were both Jedi once meant they had received similar training and once shared similar beliefs. Many Jedi didn’t believe in luck or chance, but that such rare acts or occurrences was the will of the Living Force. “Do you believe in chance, Grand Inquisitor?”

“I believe in the dark side,” he stated, almost mechanically, then turned back to the terminal. “As should you. But there’s another mystery here, I think. One relating to you.” The holoimages of Tesran and Hasler’s double helixes vanished, leaving only that of Koda’s, which was soon joined by another: Ardr’s.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“You’re both from the same planet,” shrugged the Inquisitorious’ leader. “Let’s compare them, shall we? Just for fun.”

The scan completed instantly, revealing a match.

“Congratulations, Red Brother,” stated the Grand Inquisitor. “You’re an uncle.”

___________________________

Sindr stood in the center of the street eyes wide, mouth agape as he watched beings of all shapes, sizes, and colors moving about with various tasks, and speeders floating above the ground as they weaved through the crowd. Several noisy starships drifted overhead. They had come to Black Spire Outpost, the largest settlement on the planet of Batuu, and Sindr couldn’t believe his eyes. He had grown up hearing about off-worlders, their large cities, and far away civilizations connected to one another by hyperlanes. When he was little, a Twi’lek traveler (a blue woman with smooth tails hanging from her head) had told him about a planet called Coruscant which was acted as the galaxy’s center of civilization. Later, he learned even more about the galaxy from Tesran. To him, these stories were real, but not _real_. They had just been concepts in his mind.

But this? _This_ was real. The fuzzy, nebulous preconceptions he made about the galaxy beyond his primitive homeworld were all wrong. He stared in wonder at the old, squat buildings rising out of the shells of old ruins, and at the black pillars seemingly made of stone which towered here and there above trees and cliffs both here in town and across the region. Droids floated, shuffled, and clanked about their business, each a different shape and color. None of them were like the droid that had once traveled with Tesran and his master; a little floating droid by the name of ‘Hero’, if he remembered correctly. And the people mostly seemed to be keeping to themselves and their errands, whatever those were, though he was drawing a few stares. 

They all wore clothes, unlike Sindr, who was only wearing a simple loincloth. Etreskl had urged him to at least wear some trousers to blend in better. That or stay with the ship while they went into town to purchase fuel. Sindr, however, was too proud to wear trousers in the starborn fashion. He was to become the Presark-King, and a man of his status only wore the traditional _skaap,_ a simple cloth that garbed his genitals, leaving the rest of his strong physical form free and mobile. His people were warriors. It was clear that _these_ people were anything but.

As a brisk breeze slipped between his legs and grazed his nipples, Sindr wondered if maybe his choice to wear nothing but his _skaap_ was a mistake. At the very least, he thought _maybe_ he should’ve brought that blanket with him. And besides that, there were a few people gawking, particularly at his loins, many of which were female. At least in his culture no one stared overlong at each other’s genital region unless there was to be a mating. Perhaps it was a female thing, he thought. There were no females on his planet and he was highly unfamiliar with them, other that in the majority of the galaxy’s species it was _they_ who bore young and _not_ the men — a strange thought.

“They’re staring,” Sindr said to Etreskl as the old man caught up with him.

The old man shook his shaggy white hair. “I can only imagine why. Let’s go, Bulge. We have fuel to purchase.”

“Bulge?” Sindr asked innocently, looking around to see who the blind old man was speaking to. “Who’s that?”

A cluster of three women whispered in each other’s ears and giggled. One of them blushed scarlet as Sindr looked over at them. “Ask them, they’ll be glad to tell you,” Etreskl grumbled. “Now come hold this old man’s arm, lad,” he said stiffly, holding out his elbow which Sindr took. “Guide me as if I were blind. I’ll tell you where to go.”

“You’re not really blind, are you?” asked Sindr. “How could a blind man fly a starship anyway?”

“Of course I’m blind!” said Etreskl the Mad. “You think me a liar?” He turned his wrinkled, brown face up toward Sindr and peeled back his blindfold, revealing two empty eye sockets surrounded by hanging skin scarred to oblivion, as though they had been scratched out by a thousand Kaasari needle-rats.

Sindr looked away, unable to bear the sight of it.

The elder man restored the blindfold as they continued on, grumbling. “…Won’t be called a liar, not by you, and not by anyone…!” he motioned ahead of them toward a building with several speeders parked in front of it. “There, take us in so we can make arrangements for fuel and get out of here.” 

The bright suns shown from above, but as the cool breeze nipped at Sindr’s berries, he wondered if perhaps the planet was in some sort of winter period. He gladly led the grandfather of his child into the building, smiling. The man was strange — mad, even — but Sindr could tell he had a good heart. And though the man was seemingly full of mysteries, Sindr had to admit he wanted to know more about him and was glad he decided to seek him out beyond Abadn’s Gate. He heard tales of his tremendous power, his wisdom, and his good heart … and so far Sindr was not disappointed. Little did he realize that he was the father of his old lover and the grandfather of his child.

_Soon_ , he thought as he imagined himself reunited with his long lost son. _Soon I will hold him in my arms again, as I did when he was so little…._ As for Tesran, he felt a deep longing for him, too, but it was tempered with upset. The love of his life had left him pregnant and alone without word or cause. _I don’t know whether I should clobber him with fury when I see him, or kiss and bed him as we did in our youth._ He supposed he’d figure it out soon, one way or another.

As he and Etreskl entered the building, Sindr felt his warrior’s instinct within him prickle the hair on the back of his arms and neck. He gripped the Kaasari energy bow slung over his shoulder.

Suddenly, the dim chandelier hanging from above flickered and died as the lightbulb exploded. Its glass spread across the room, nicked Sindr’s cheek and drew blood. There were sudden shouts and screams followed by red and blue blasterfire, which flashed strobed through the darkened room. Sindr flattened himself against the floor as plasma scorched over his head, and green lightning danced and twisted through the air. The smell of ozone was overpowering. It was unlike anything Sindr had experienced — in fact, he didn’t know what had just happened at all. He came from a world where energy bows were considered to be the most advanced form of technology available to them — a gift of knowledge from Lord Ravgr himself a thousand years ago.

Above the din of chaos, a masculine voice called out. “You shouldn’t have returned, old geezer.”

The blasterfire stopped. Red floodlights suddenly illuminated the darkness mere seconds later. When Sindr looked up, he saw dead bodies lain strewn against crates, tables and chairs. They had died faster than Sindr could even comprehend. On an upper balcony, three dead people lay hunched forward across the banister. Sindr’s eyes were wide as he surveilled the scene, and he wondered if it would be wiser to stand or to continue laying on his belly as he was.

Etreskl the Mad, he noticed, was no where to be seen.

The only man left standing on the balcony holding a blaster. He was a squat, tentacle-faced Blutopian with tiny eyes. He pointed his weapon at the place Etreskl had stood mere moments before the blackout, and now he aimed it wildly at every shadow in the room. “What the….” the Blutopian murmured.

Sindr saw a shadow moving behind the alien.

The shadow stepped forward until it towered over the befuddled man, and when the shadow raised its arms, green lightning erupted from its fingertips and crackled through the alien’s physiology. For a moment as the electricity jumped through its body Sindr could see the bones inside of it, and afterwards as the lightning stopped and the body fell over, lifeless, he could smell the sizzled, cooked skin. It reminded him of charred fish.

The shadow jumped downward from from the balcony and landed softly in front Sindr. “You okay, lad?” Etreskl asked, reaching a hand down to pull him to his feet. Before he could reply, Etreskl was motioning toward a large barrel beside a far wall. “Lift that and bring it with you.” The old man stuck a head outside the entrance and peered around the shop’s front. “Hurry!” he shouted at Sindr.

Sindr stepped over four dead men and lifted the heavy barrel with his arms, using his legs to hoist them over his shoulder. The barrel’s contents sloshed within, altering Sindr’s balance. Luckily, Sindr was young and strong.

“No, no, no,” Etreskl said. “Use the hover lift! Don’t throw your back out.”

“I … got it….!” Sindr groaned. “Where to?”

“Back to the ship,” Etreskl stated, motioning Sindr to follow him through the door and out on the streets. There was a small, curious crowd growing outside the building, no doubt lured there by the sounds of blasterfire. “Hurry.”

As Sindr followed behind the blind man, he wondered what in Lord Ravgr’s name had just happened. “Those were friends of yours?”

“Good friends, once,” Etreskl said as they hurried along. “Looks like they took over the fuel depot since the last time I was here.” Etreskl began to cackle wildly. “Guess we walked right into that one.”

“They should have used swords or spears,” Sindr said matter-of-factly, with some strain as the barrel sloshed on his shoulder. “A true warrior doesn’t use starborn weaponry.”

“Welcome to the galaxy, lad,” laughed Etreskl. The old man seemed to be feeling younger than ever before as he laughed. “Welcome to the Outer Rim! Besides, your bow is starborn weaponry, you know. Your ‘god’ didn’t invent it, either.”

“Heresy!” Sindr snapped at the man.

“Your god was starborn himself,” Etreskl said, still cackling. “Bet he didn’t include that in any of his sacred stone tablets, did he, hmm?”

_________________________________

They had been waiting for hours it seemed like, but according to the _Silverdark_ ’s chrono, only forty-five minutes had passed. He unstrapped himself from his seat in the cockpit and went into the interior of the ship to use the refresher, and afterward he went to the ship’s small mess hall to brew some caf. As a Jedi, he had gotten the opportunity to travel all across the galaxy and taste exotic foods and beverages, but nothing compared to Coruscanti caf. Besides, if this waiting game continued any longer he’d be falling asleep behind the controls, and that just wouldn’t do.

When the caf was finished he poured it into a gravcup and held it up to his nose, inhaling the hot steamy deliciousness brewed to the perfect temperature. He had gotten into the habit of drinking caf because of his master, who was a connoisseur of caf delicacies. Though Jedi weren’t allowed to own or possess anything but their lightsabers and the clothes off their back, Master Vu Sae had taken pleasure in the small comforts of collecting caf from all over the galaxy. She particularly loved _any_ blend from Naboo. “The climate in Naboo’s southern hemisphere is perfect for caf beans to grow,” she told him once as she held out her mug for Tesran to sample. He sipped gently from the hot liquid, let it aerate on his tongue, swallowed and smacked his lips afterward. “It’s _good_ … _buuuuut_ … not as good as Coruscant’s,” he admitted to his master, much to her frustration. She didn’t like that answer. “Coruscant caf may as well be _synthetic_ ,” she said incredulously, yanking her caf cup back from him. “Who knows _what’s_ in it.”

Presently, with a fresh cup of Coruscanti caf, Tesran returned to the cockpit. Hasler Jak, Pirate Queen Extraordinaire, was fast asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. Her eyeballs turned this way and that beneath the thin membranes of her eyelids.

Tesran turned forward to gaze at the backwater world rotating before them through the forward viewport. “If you were awake, I could’ve gotten you some caf,” he said softly, shaking his head, musing to himself as if the woman had just missed out on some awesome, once in a lifetime opportunity. “Your loss, I guess….” he said, sipping his steaming hot beverage.

“I’m not sleeping,” the pirate woman stated.

Hasler’s voice surprised Tesran so much he almost fumbled the gravcup and came _this_ close to spurting the liquid out of his nose. He recovered quickly. “‘Course not,” he stated dismissively, then adopted a posh Coruscanti accent. “You were merely staring at the back of your eyelids, and all its myriad colors as though it were like a mural of fine art.”

The pirate’s eyelids finally opened as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Watch your tone with me, child.”

Tesran slid the gravcup into a cup holder on the console in front of him. “It’s been almost an hour,” he stated, giving the woman a suspicious look. “Why won’t you tell me why we’re here? What are you hiding?”

“Use the Force.”

“—What?”

“Use the Force,” she told him, then nodded her head at the planet. “Didn’t Das Vu Sae teach you to be aware of your surroundings?”

The man grew utterly still. “How do you know that name?”

“Das was an old friend of mine,” said Hasler. “Do you think she chose you to be her Padawan by mere coincidence?”

Tesran didn’t like where this had went. Not. At. All. He sat rigid in his chair as he stared at her. “What are you saying?”

Hasler took a moment to fill her lungs and empty them. She stared at the planet ahead of them, and Tesran could tell by the tightness of her lips that she was thinking. “I was a Jedi once, Tesran.” The way she spoke his name surprised him. It was with a soft tone he never heard her use before. “I fell in love during my studies abroad. I was a Jedi Master specializing in archaeology and exploration. I took immense pride in my work; in my discoveries, my theories, my accomplishments. More than a Jedi should, really.” She shook her head and smiled, then gave a light chuckle. “And I threw it _all_ away for a _man_.”

Her last sentence seemed to be _crawling_ with disdain. But Tesran was silent as she continued, even though he felt unbelievably awkward to be hearing all of this from the immovable duracrete wall that was Pirate Queen Hasler Jak, who suddenly revealed a soft side of her he thought he’d never see.

“He was so mysterious and interesting,” she said in a reminiscing, fond tone. “He grew up on an ocean planet living off the water, the salt, and the Tide. That’s what his people called the Force: the Tide. And he was so powerful with it. By mere luck he was able to venture off his primitive planet and travel amongst unknown stars, free as a bird, until he was marooned on a planet you’re familiar with. A planet called Kaasar. He was stuck. So he made the best of it and used his knowledge of the Force to help the people there, and with his wisdom and power he became the right hand of the Presark-King known as Talgr.”

“Talgr?” Tesran repeated the name, remembering the treasured months he spent on Sindr’s planet. “That’s Sindr’s father.”

“Following the customs of the Kaasari, Etreskl blended in and rose to the heights of the Torn Sor Kaa, an order of powerful Force-users.”

“I think Sindr mentioned him once,” Tesran said, reaching far into his memories to the stories Sindr used to tell him. “But what does this have to do with you and my master? Did you study there as well?”

She ignored him and continued. “Long ago, Master Yoda and the Council of that day and age felt a disturbance in the Force located in Wild Space and sent me and my Padawan to investigate. Kaasar hadn’t been properly charted or explored in all the history of the Republic. Some wayward travelers had come across it a dozen times in known history, but the Jedi were the first to establish an outpost and to make proper contact between our two civilizations. It was clear they were warriors prone to violence, but I sensed something curious about them. A dark side more powerful than anything I’d ever felt before.” She paused, and when Tesran looked over he saw the blonde hairs on her arms standing upward. “A dark side that didn’t originate from them, but from the planet itself.”

“You’re talking about Kaasar’s dark side locus,” Tesran said.

She folded her arms as if suddenly cold. “Yes.”

“My master and I were told that some Jedi had studied the planet before. We were given their reports to analyze, but the authors of those who wrote them were redacted,” Tesran remembered. “We were told that the Jedi who went there were out of reach. That their mission to understand the nexus had failed.”

Hasler Jak laughed. “Of course,” she said. “The Jedi Council was always concerned about themselves and their reputation. It just wouldn’t do if word got out that their most prized archaeologist and explorer had fallen in love and become with child. I stood before the Council, many months pregnant, and confessed my sins. When they offered me a choice to abandon my child, and remain with the Jedi, I refused.” Tesran could sense her rising anger reverberating through the Force. “They expelled me then and there, took my lightsaber, and escorted me out to the steps of the temple without credits, no vehicle, and no way to return to my husband.”

Tesran was reminded of the choice Master Yoda, Windu, and the others of the Council had given him. He had chosen the opposite of Hasler — he had chosen to abandon Sindr and their unborn child to stay with the Jedi. A sickness arose within his belly. Hasler loved her man and her child enough to abandon the only life she had ever known for them. 

He didn’t.

A bubble the size of his fist swelled in his throat.

“The only person who cared,” continued Hasler. “Was Das Vu Sae. She caught up with me just out beyond the four statues of our founders, her alabaster face bright and shining in the midday sun. I’ll never forget it. She gave me credits and my lightsaber. She argued with he council to have it returned to me. Only the Force knows how she got Yoda to agree. But she held my hands, and it was the only time in all the years of our friendship, that I saw her cry. It wasn’t a sob, nothing like that. Just a neutral face with a single tear running down her cheek.”

Tesran recalled that even in the moments before her death, in her fateful duel with the fallen Jedi Anakin Skywalker, Das Vu Sae didn’t show any emotion. She lived and died by the Jedi Code as much as a mortal possibly could.

“I confessed to her that I’d been having visions since the moment I conceived my son,” Hasler said, looking at Tesran. “The visions, at that point, were unclear. For ages, visions and prophecies were largely dismissed by the Jedi Order, and so I dismissed them as well. Das and I parted ways. Months later, when I gave birth, the vision suddenly became crisp and clear. It was a prophecy, if you will. I contacted Das Vu Sae at once, and she listened when I told her the future. That _she_ must be the one to take my child as her Padawan. I gave my son to the Jedi Council — the very same council that scorned me. The very same people I refused to give up my child for in the first place. But then I knew in clear terms that my son would have a profound influence on the galaxy, and he needed to be trained by the Jedi to do it. Not by me, or some other rogue Force-sensitive being. But by the Jedi.”

Hasler’s blue eyes turned to Tesran, and the weight of those familiar blue eyes settled on him like a mountain. Those familiar blue eyes, he realized, were the same ones that stared back at him through the mirror.

_No way_ , he thought. _There’s … no … possible way…._

 _______________________________

Minutes passed before Tesran realized Hasler — his own mother — was pointing at something in the viewport. He turned to look as he saw flashes of particle blasts being exchanged between a ship and three others some kilometers off. It appeared as if an old, weathered starship was being pursued by three newer adversaries in small starfighters. Sound returned to his ears and he discovered Hasler was yelling at him.

“— _Now_ ,” she commanded franticly. “Or else everything I’ve worked toward will fall apart!”

Tesran’s hands clasped around the control yoke and the _Silverdark_ burst into action for the first time since the end of the Clone War. Instinctually, Tesran fell into the Force and allowed it to have a measure of control over him and everything he did; actions, reactions, and instinct. The saucer-shaped starship’s twin ion engines kicked in, sending them forward in a dizzying blast of speed. Seconds later, they were on top of their targets.

“I need you on the—”

“—The laser turret,” Hasler finished. She was already unstrapped from her seat’s harness and headed aft. “Got it!”

At the same time, Tesran’s right hand curled around the targeting control for the forward laser cannons, and his thumb found the button. For a moment he hesitated, realizing that his own mother was moving aft to operate the laser gun. It was a surreal realization that he didn’t have time for. Red particle blasts shot forward, first slamming against the pathetic shields of the enemy fighter, and when the shields were overwhelmed, against the starfighter’s vulnerable hull.

With an explosion of white fire and debris, the first of the three ships were eliminated.

According to the _Silverdark’s_ computers, the fleeing starship Tesran was protecting was beginning to activate its hyperdrive as the remaining two enemy vessels careened to engage the _Silverdark_. Immediately, Tesran moved to angle the _Silverdark_ ’s shields forward in time to absorb the first volley of particle blasts. The whole interior shook and rattled as the shots made impact, dropping the shields to sixty percent.

“Whoever these guys are,” Tesran grunted to himself as he pulled the ship around to re-engage. “They’re packing some serious firepower.” Volleys from the _Silverdark’s_ ventral laser turret splashed against the shields of the second enemy target. “Nice one, Pirate Queen—” he said through the ship’s intercom, forgetting momentarily that the woman he just called ‘Pirate Queen’ was his actual mother. _This is definitely gonna take some getting used to…._

The distraction cost him.

As his ship spun around and he fired his forward cannons, he missed, and both enemies launched a full salvo that rocked the ship so much that Tesran’s bones and teeth rattled. “Shields at ten percent,” he said via intercom.

“Tesran,” she said. “My son. Trust in the Force.”

As Tesran let go of all emotion, all distraction, and all apprehension, he allowed the Force to rise within him, overpowering his own sense of will and desire. The _Silverdark_ spun around and rolled just in time to avoid a second and third volley, and as the fighters shot past his viewports, he saw one of them bloom like a flower as Hasler lit it up. 

At the same time, the starship they were protecting shot forward into the safety of hyperspace.

The last enemy starfighter broke off and angled back toward the planet, obviously attempting to flee the battle’s envelope.

Tesran was prepared to allow the ship to go, but Hasler’s voice came through the ship’s comm. “Kill them, Tesran,” she said coldly. “Take them out. They can’t be allowed to live.”

“They’re retreating,” Tesran replied sternly. “I won’t shoot them down in cold blood.”

“Sindr’s on that ship we just saved, child,” she said.

“What…?”

“Do you think I brought you out here to save some backwater peasants?” she asked. “Kill them!”

So the ‘friend’ that would be joining him soon — the one Hasler mentioned on the first night Tesran arrived on Bygone — was Sindr? His breath caught in his lungs. His mother had been planning to reunite him with Sindr all this time? Even still, Tesran’s gut told him not to do it. They had fired on the man he loved, yes. But they were breaking off, abandoning their motives. And yet they were still in range of his forward laser cannons. He could even launch proton torpedoes if he wanted, should they gain too much distance between them.

Tesran’s thumb pulled away from the joystick. “I won’t do it,” he stated resolutely, taking a breath. He relaxed in his seat. “If Sindr really was on that ship, then he’s safe. They made the jump. That’s all that matters.”

There was silence on the other end of the ship’s intercom for a full minute until Hasler Jak appeared in the cockpit and sat herself back down into the co-pilot’s seat, strapping herself in. Tesran was already inputing the coordinates of Bygone so they could put Batuu behind them. “You will have to deal with the consequences,” she told him. Her face was written with displeasure. “You let an evil man live today.”

“He fled,” he said with finality. “It’s over.”

“When it comes to protecting those you love,” she began, her voice sinking into a beleaguered pitch. “The battle never ends.”

______________________________

Two Bygone starfighters from the planet’s defense force hovered over the crashed ship as ground crews rushed in, blasters at the ready. The scene was looking tense by the time Tesran maneuvered the starship out of the air and landed on the ground nearby in a spray of sand. The crash had happened within a short distance of Hasler’s fortress, and in the west the setting sun lit them in golden reds and yellows.

By the time Tesran and Hasler exited from the _Silverdark_ ’s ramp and set foot on the sand, a crew of pirates were trying to pry open the crumpled door which had sustained heavy damage in the crash. 

When Hasler Jak appeared from the belly of Tesran’s starship a loyal Weequay pirate came before her and bowed her head.

“They’re alive, my lady,” said the alien reverently. “Can’t speak for their injuries or state of mind, but we can hear them from within. We’ll have them out of there in moments.”

She turned to regard the woman. “And the boy and the droid?”

The Weequay pointed off toward the fortress. “Can see their headlights now, my lady,” she said. “They were safe and sound inside their room, just like you said. The boy fought and screamed and the droid zapped Todry twice, but once we explained the situation they did as they were told.”

Tesran stared at the Weequay woman with venom stiffening his lower lip, then put a strong hand on Hasler’s shoulder. “You’ve brought Koda here against his will? I told him to stay with Heero in our room.”

Hasler looked down at his hand upon his shoulder, then looked up at him.

Tesran removed his hand.

“You’re about to have what you’ve always wanted, Tesran,” she stated. “I urge you to remember who it was that made it possible.”

Koda and HE-R0 arrived from the speeder and immediately joined Tesran on the beach. Koda immediately clutched his knees and held them as tightly as he could. “You okay, Ko? No one touched you?”

“Heero wouldn’t let them,” Koda said. “They tried to grab me and take me away, but I only went cause Heero said it was okay.”

When the concave hatch of the crashed starship was unsealed and thrown open by Hasler’s crew, an old man garbed in loose-fitting robes stepped outward, bloodied all over. His exposed chest, neck, and face revealed what reminded Tesran of Kaasari war runes, and his eyes were were covered in a tight-fitting blindfold. When he hit the sand, Hasler rushed forward to help him, eschewing her fellow pirates to do so herself. As she helped him to his feet and escorted him toward a speeder, she looked at Tesran. “The rest is yours to deal with,” she said, then sped off with the old man.

The old man. His father.

The remaining pirates trudged past Tesran, Koda, and HE-R0, leaving him alone with the young man that next emerged from the crashed and burning starship.

It was his half-nakedness that drew his eye at first, for he wore only that of a traditional Kaasari _skaap._ His broad stature was pleasing and familiar, though more muscular than he remembered. And then there was his face. A face he could never even begin to dream of forgetting. A handsome face. A face full of expression. A face that had seen minor scarring in the years since that passed. Unlike the old man, Sindr was unhurt, unbloodied, though looking somewhat dazed and overwhelmed. He was not at all pregnant, of course, than when they had parted five years ago. And he had a fine, full beard with a head full of long brown curls.

“Sindr?”

_____________________________

The crash had been worse than any crash he had on the back of Ebindr. When he had crashed with Ebindr, there was blood and some broken bones, possibly, but never heat, or fire, or explosions. The impact had hurt, but he was strapped into the harness, and he could only imagine if he had _not_ been strapped in. Would he be six feet into the sand in front of the viewport right now?

Yet the impact had made his brain fuzzy and strange, and moments, hours, or days later? A golden light pierced the side of their wrecked starship and Etreskl had helped him out of the harness and then stumbled towards the light. There were voices outside, and then Etreskl was gone.

Struggling on his feet, Sindr, too, stepped toward the opened hatchway, and then outside where he was greeted by the blurry sight of vast oceans, vast sands, and a golden sunset the like of which he had never seen. And air that was less humid than anything he had ever took into his lungs.

The first person he saw was the spitting image of an adolescent man he used to know. Except this man was slightly older, more mature and masculine, with a thin musculature complimented by broad shoulders and a face that was too beautiful. Blue eyes and blonde hair enwrapped by the golden glare of the sun behind him.

“Sindr?” The voice was just like he remembered, only slightly more certain of itself. The voice of a man.

“Tesran?”

And then _he_ was there, too. Looking out from behind Tesran’s leg.

Sindr stared as his eyes filled with tears and he was forced to blink them away so that the tears didn’t blur his vision. He didn’t want to miss this for anything. He felt his knees giving out beneath him, and the weight of his body falling upon them as he gazed at his beautiful boy — more beautiful than the hologram Etreskl had shown him in the cave on Kaasar. He was blonde, just like his seed father, and blue-eyed like him, too.

They came to him.

Tesran knelt and inspected Sindr’s body. “Are you okay? I see only some bruising….”

There were no words that Sindr could come up with. Tesran had left him. They had been apart for so long and Sindr had shared beds with his consorts since then. He was a man now, as they both were, and not the curious, scared adolescents they had been when they parted. But it was hard to ignore the past when the past was staring you in the face. “I think so,” he said.

Tesran gathered him in his arms, and when the moment that seemed to last for eternity passed, they drew back from one another and Koda came forward and smiled at him. It was a beautiful smile. Though Koda had seemingly received all his genes from Tesran, his smile reminded Sindr of his own father’s smile. So warm and kind.

“Is it true you can climb trees really fast?” asked the boy curiously. His voice! Before, Sindr had only ever heard the wail of an infant, and now he could _talk_. “And that you shoot an energy bow?”

“…H-how did you know that?” Sindr was surprised Koda knew anything about him at all. Tears again sprung to his eyes.

“Tesran told me,” Koda said. “He said you’re his best friend.”

Tesran and Sindr looked at one another. Tesran smiled. Sindr felt as though he were dreaming. This couldn’t be real. He wasn’t really here. He was still on Kaasar, in Etreskl’s cave, sleeping and dreaming of this moment, and _this_ was just a fantasy. But the ache in his body from the crash, and the pounding of his heart told him it was anything but. No. This was real. This handsome, bearded, long-haired man before him really _was_ Tesran. And this blue-eyed child who stared up at him with curiosity really _was_ his son.

“My son,” he said aloud, giving voice — and therefore making it real — what had been up until this moment a fantasy. “Koda.”

It wasn’t for another beat later that he realized Tesran was staring at the pair of them slack-jawed. “What is it?” Sindr asked him as Tesran seemed to be pondering some mind puzzle. It seemed to him the tide was growing in Tesran’s eyes; the tide of realization. _Did Tesran not know?_


	6. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bresaln's gambit fails as Uldr's ambitions become clearer; Tesran and Sindr rekindle old flames; Hasler and Etreskl catch up.

**CHAPTER SIX**

**THE CALM**

A womb is no dungeon. Though claustrophobic by all standards, to a baby a womb is safety. There are no iron bars, cold floors, or foul chamber pots. A womb is flexible, allowing the baby to stretch, and it is warm like a comforting blanket. The waste is filtrated and forgotten, never allowed to linger and create a stench. A womb is home; a place of peace, security, and repose, where a baby can grow and strengthen itself as it is nurtured in warm darkness; an inward pool where the soul grows, preparing itself within the body of a body.

A dungeon, however, is where the soul goes to die. The iron bars were unbreakable by Kaasari strength alone, and the floors were wet and mildewy beneath bare skin. In the corner, a soggy wooden bucket contained the wastes of a heavily pregnant Kaasari whose digestive system had reacted poorly to the fetid food that was given him by the guards, which was nothing to say of the poor handling he had been given when he was brought here. A giant bruise covered and swelled his right cheek, given to him by Hagare, the acting captain of the palace, when Bresaln had resisted capture. Pregnant as he was, Bresaln was a true warrior in his own right, having been raised by two warlords of two of the mightiest clans. But outnumbered and slowed by his condition, there was no fighting incarceration.

While he held his belly in the decrepit gloom of his dank cell, he thought of the baby within; Volokr’s child. Soon, Bresaln knew he would give birth. He could feel the continual urges rising within his belly; the contractions that were signs of imminent fatherhood. His fatherly instinct told him the babe would arrive within the week, if not sooner. 

A womb is no dungeon. The baby was safe inside of him for now, spared from the nightmare of the ziggurat’s royal prison. But Bresaln swore to the God-King Ravgr himself that his child would not be born in a dungeon cell, no matter what. 

His baby would not exchange the gentle solitude of his womb for the harsh realities of a dungeon.

He knew he had to escape, somehow, some way. If Lord Uldr awoke from death’s door, he would remember who put him there. He would force the child that he believed to be his own flesh and blood from its father’s womb, and once extracted, Bresaln knew what would happen then. He had to get out of here, out of the providence and back _home_. Back to the lands of his fathers who would raise armies of warriors to defend him. His fathers, too, believed the child he carried to be Uldr’s, which would put the power of the World Throne in their hands. They would fight to their dying breath to remove Uldr from power and uplift the new heir — their grandchild — to the heights of rulership. To his shame, Bresaln knew he could never them the truth; that Volokr, the dead captain of the guard, had fathered the child, and _not_ Uldr.

It was a secret that _must_ be kept. Everything hinged on it, and the only other person who knew was Sindr, who was long gone; safe amongst the stars where Uldr was sure to never find him.

If Bresaln could just escape and make it home … all would be well.

That hope died moments later when the silence of the dungeon was broken by the sound of a door opening. Torches lit the faces of Hagare’s guardsmen as they appeared in front of Bresaln’s cell. The iron opened with a _clang_ and Bresaln used the damp wall of cold stones to help right himself to his feet.

Was this it, then?

“There’s been good news,” said Hagare, his smiling yellow teeth seeming orange in the torchlight. “Lord Uldr has awoken, and he’s called for you.” Hagare bowed his suddenly, with unexpected reverence. “He is well enough now to speak and has summoned you directly. According to our Presark, it seems you are innocent after all, and I have begged him for forgiveness for my laying hands on you.”

“I don’t understand,” Bresaln said weakly. He had stopped eating the food he had been given days ago.

“Presark Uldr explained to us about the assassin that entered his chamber,” Hagare said. “Your story is corroborated.”

They lent him a _skaap_ and led him slowly up through the ziggurat’s spire, and when he was alone with Uldr back in their own chambers — the very chambers that Bresaln had hoped Uldr would die at his own hands — he found his ‘beloved’ surprisingly well. Though paler than usual and thinner, there was some color in his face, and he could slowly maneuver about on his own two feet. Such a thing shouldn’t have been possible. After all, Bresaln knew with certainty that he had punctured one of Uldr’s lungs.

When the door shut behind Hagare, Uldr held up his hands as he sat on the balcony’s edge. “Surprised?”

Bresaln felt no inclination to hide his distaste for the man any longer. “Painfully,” he answered.

The Presark was absorbently handsome in the backdrop of the golden sun rising over the jungles behind him, pale and muscled; a Kaasari god of such beauty that rivaled the fabled descriptions of Lord Ravgr himself. But Bresaln could only feel revulsion. How many times had Bresaln shared the company of this vile man? If Uldr only knew he was being cuckholded by his former captain.

“Look at you,” said Uldr, putting two stiff feet upon the ground. Bresaln could tell by the slow cadence of Uldr’s legs that he wasn’t yet back to full strength. He put his hands on either side of Bresaln’s prodigious belly, gave it a good rub, then brought Bresaln close against him in a tight embrace that left his lungs gasping for air. “You are strong, my _hacron,_ and you should pray that my son inherits such strength from you. Together, with your fiery blood and mine, our children shall further my dynasty forever.”

“Our children?”

Uldr pulled away from him so he might stare at Bresaln eye to eye. His look was withering. “Did you think I’d dispose of you so quickly, after what you did?” he asked. “Your blood is fire. You are borne of the two most powerful warlords of our day, and that added with my divine bloodline, I will create a legacy that will rival that of the God-King himself.” He again clutched Bresaln’s pregnant belly and squeezed it out of his own excitement. “Your womb is my forge.”

The manic elation in Uldr’s eyes made Bresaln silently shudder. _So he will keep me around to be used like a broodmare,_ he thought. Though he didn’t account for this turn of events, Bresaln felt utterly unsurprised. “I see….” Bresaln looked aside to a table nearby out on the veranda. “I have a thirst, suddenly….”

Uldr smiled at him and went to pour him fresh mead, talking as he did so. “I have been unkind to you, Bresa,” he said, pouring himself a cupful as well. “I underestimated you. If not for the magik of the Torn Sor Kaa, my lung would be gone, and me along with it.”

“Then … it is still there?” he asked, referring to the lung.

The laugh was chilling. It was as if Bresaln had told a joke. “Don’t sound so disappointed, my love,” Uldr brought their drinks back. Bresaln had to resist the urge to down its entirety all at once. “The Torn Sor Kaa’s power has diminished since that old fool Etreskl left the order behind, but it isn’t gone. They still know many secrets, and I am a living testimony of them.” He drank deeply from his cup. “The ritual lasted through the night. It was ghastly. Ghoulish. Blue smoke filled me and I could feel its fire from within.” Uldr placed a hand on his ribcage where the knife had went through. A small scar remained. “But I’ve been made anew, and from here on out, Bresa, I will treat you better.” He set the cup aside and again brought his pregnant consort firmly against him. “Soon, you will birth me my first true blood son, and when you have labored long and hard, and Lord Ravgr has _punished_ you in the birthing bed for your trespass against me, I will put another blood son into you, and another and another and another. Do you see?” Uldr squeezed Bresaln’s chin and cheeks between his forefinger and thumb. They stared numbly at one another. “For as long as you give me strong children, I will treat you better. But only just a _little_ better.” 

His eyes became manic again, and his smile was cruel. “After you birth this one, I will have your arms removed to the elbow, you see? So you may never again raise them against me.” He barked a laugh and withdrew from Bresaln and back to the balustrade where he looked out toward the rising sun emerging from the jungle’s horizon. “You don’t need them to pleasure me anyway, and certainly not to give birth. You won’t be as beautiful, of course, as a cripple. But you’ll be in the darkness of the dungeons where no one will ever see you again, so I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? Besides, I will take other consorts to please me.”

“How is that treating me better?”

Uldr’s anger flashed like a hot knife. “It’s better than you deserve.”

“My fathers will never—”

“Your fathers are loyal,” Uldr said, turning his eyes toward him one last time before he called for the guards to return and take him away. “And if they prove otherwise, they will taste my wrath.” He sagged weakly against the stone segment. “Soon, I will have a new weapon in hand. And once I retrieve it, no one will ever dare question my rule.”

____________________________

It was the evening of the next day as Tesran and Sindr stood upon the windy beach, watching Koda paw at a new sandcastle he created with the help of HE-R0. It was a splendid creation almost a meter high that could only have been created with the precision of a droid’s mind and the imagination of a child. And though the sandcastle was magnificent, Koda hardly seemed to be enjoying it. Every few minutes he would look back at them, a frown on his face. He didn’t have to be Force-sensitive to sense the tension that brewed between the adults. 

“He’s confused,” Tesran said. “And Force knows, so am I.” Sindr’s arms were folded across his chest, watching their son play in the sand. Tesran could sense Sindr’s confusion as well, mingled with fear. The Force granted Tesran a glimpse into that fear: Sindr was afraid that now Koda was in reach, his son wouldn’t accept him, or like him. 

He wanted to touch Sindr’s shoulder to reassure him that that wasn’t true, but refrained. It was still … new … between them. He settled for words instead. “He already likes you. He’s just confused, like all of us are. That’s all.”

Sindr’s lips twitched nervously. “Have you two had much time to bond?”

“A little,” Tesran said, the evening twilight casting his skin with cool tones. “Oddly enough, we had a cover story that I was his father, and he my son.” How the Force was toying with them! “It’s been incredibly mind-opening, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Children are so fragile,” he said. “He relies on me for everything; food, safety, happiness. … everything. And he absorbs my emotions like a sponge. If I worry, he worries. If I’m sad, he’s sad. He picks up on it so fast. Of all my Jedi training in mindfulness, never have I had a lesson to learn so quickly, than to be mindful of my thoughts around a Force-sensitive child.”

When Tesran looked at Sindr, he found a small smile on his lips as they watched the boy play. _Their_ boy play. “I’m jealous, in a way.” Sindr bit his lip. “You’ve had so much time to spend with him—”

“Not really,” Tesran interjected. “And I didn’t even realize he was my son….”

Sindr peered at him incredulously. “He looks _just_ like you. How did you not know?”

The Jedi moved a strand of windblown, sandy hair from his eyes and shook his head. “It’s odd,” Tesran began. “But there were a few moments that I pretended he was actually mine. My kid. And in those moments, it seemed real. In those moments, I believed it. I didn’t know what the future would hold for us, and I still don’t, but I knew he depended on me, and in a way, I depended — depend — on him. I thought the Force wanted me to be a father figure to him. That it had plucked us from the Jedi Temple and put us on this path.” Tesran raised his shoulders as if he didn’t know what else to say. “And I think it’s true. I was already planning on being his father, and as it turns out, I already am.”

“I still don’t understand this god of yours,” Sindr said. “This _Force_. No matter how many times you tried to explain it to me in the past.” The wind whipped at Sindr’s brown curls. “There are still so many questions. Somehow, my son—” He paused and smiled wanly at Tesran, “— _our_ son _,_ was stolen from me soon after I birthed him and given to the Jedi? And for five years you didn’t know your own son was right under the same roof as you until just last night? And you tell me you escaped the destruction of your religious order together, by chance?” Sindr squeezed his temples as if all of this was hurting his brain.

“You’re right,” Tesran stated. “It’s all too much, and more than coincicidence. Hasler’s all tied up in it, I think.” _My own mother_ , he thought. Many times during his upbringing, Tesran wondered who his parents were. Sometimes he wondered if they were farmers, or miners, or lobbyists on Coruscant for some world or another. He liked to pretend that they were simple people doing simple things, living simple, unobtrusive lives. But the truth was all too much. Fact was, his mother was an exiled Jedi pirate prophet queen — a mouthful in and of itself — and his father was some sort of blind-but-not-blind tribal Force-user with tattoos all over his body.

The universe had gone kriffing mad all of sudden.

“Your mother?” Sindr asked. “What does she have to do with it?”

The word ‘mother’ itself felt foreign on his lips: “My _mother_ ,” he repeated. “When we fought off the people who were attacking your ship, she mentioned that I had a destiny that would change history, and seemed to allude that you’re caught up in it. She _also_ has ties to Kaasar. She studied your planet before me and my master did. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think she’s the one who stole Koda and brought him to the Jedi to be trained. She did the same to me when I was a baby.”

“She did?” Sindr asked, turning his twilit face toward him. “How could a parent ever _willingly_ give up their child like that?”

Tesran remembered when he had given up Sindr and their unborn child, and found himself unable to reply. It was shameful, Tesran knew. But what he had done to his unborn child, Tesran’s own mother had done the same to him. _To become a Jedi is a noble calling…._ he wanted to say, but they sounded hollow before they could even touch his lips, so he decided not to say them at all.

“So where do we go from here?” Sindr turned to him for answers.

Tesran felt as though he had none. “We talk to her,” he said. “And we start over.” He wanted to reach out and clutch those hands of Sindr’s and hold them forever, but he had to remind himself that Sindr could be an entirely different person now. What they had was in the past. “If we can,” he added.

The Kaasari stepped in closer toward Tesran as they stood in the sand as the ocean tide lapped beside them, and their son played close by. “Tes,” he said gently. “Why did you leave us? I watched your starship fly away. I had barely woken.” Sindr’s silver eyes went distant. “I had slept in the palace ziggurat that night instead of the treehouse with you, you remember?”

“Your father was holding a feast for a couple of warlords,” Tesran said. “You told me you would have to go back for the evening, and that you’d hate sleeping alone.”

The ocean roared as Sindr looked away. “I spent _years_ sleeping alone after you flew off,” he said quietly, just over the din of the ocean’s scream. “I had our baby without you, I lost him without you, I moved on without you. Or at least I tried to move on. In the span of less than a year, I gained you, lost you, mourned you, lost my son, and mourned my son. I was so morose and forlorn that my father had healers treat me for sicknesses I didn’t even have. You know, in this last year alone, I finally started to open my heart again. I took lovers.” Sindr looked at Tesran sadly.

“I’m sure they made you very happy,” Tesran said. He had no right to feel jealous. But he did.

“They did,” Sindr said. “One died when we escaped. Haln, you remember him? And Bresaln is still in my brother’s clutches.”

“I remember them,” Tesran said. “They were nice enough, but I don’t think they had any love for my master and me.”

“Off-worlders aren’t loved on Kaasar, if you remember.”

“Oh, I remember.”

“Though we are lovers, it’s a different sort of love. I have only loved one man, and _still_ only love one man. One. Man.” Sindr raised one finger and then prodded Tesran’s chest with it. “And he left me pregnant and alone, without a word or a goodbye.”

Tesran felt his breath catch in his chest. “My master discovered the truth about us,” he explained, taking Sindr’s hand into his own and clutching them as if they were jewels on loan. “She asked me to admit it, about you and the baby. I couldn’t lie, Sin. I couldn’t lie. Not to her.” Tesran looked down at their clasped hands. “She gave me no chance to say goodbye, or to explain, and when I got back to Coruscant I was forbidden by the Jedi Council to ever return to Kaasar, or to have any communications with you. I had … I had the option to leave the Jedi Order and return to you, but….”

“You wanted to be a Jedi Knight,” Sindr said wistfully, allowing his hand to remain in Tesran’s grasp. “It was always your dream….”

“You remember?”

Sindr looked over toward Koda. “We were always your second choice.”

“… Sin … I—”

Sindr sighed. “I knew that about you, Tesran,” he said. “You were always upfront about your commitment to the Jedi, and I pursued you anyway. It was my fault. I pressed you, remember? It was I who seduced you.”

“And I was glad to be seduced,” Tesran shrugged, remembering that night so well and … _vividly_. “But I should’ve honored my responsibility to Koda, as his father. And I should have placed you and him above everything else.”

“I cannot deny that I wished you would’ve,” Sindr said. “But we were young and didn’t know what we were doing. You had dreams you wanted to follow, and I was the heir of six powerful clans. They would’ve never accepted a starborn lover as my bonded lover. It was probably for the best that you left, and besides, it’s in the past.”

Tesran wanted to kiss him. “How are you so damned reasonable?”

“Because as it turns out, I appear to have a weakness for light-haired blue-eyed off-worlders.”

Grinning, Sindr gently pulled his hands away and the two faced one another, staring intently into each other’s eyes. Five years between them, lost across the vast distance between stars, and here they were again. Together.

“We’re parents,” Tesran said somewhat incredulously. He could still scarcely believe it. They both looked over at Koda, who was burying HE-R0 in the sand. The patient droid, now fully covered, extended a sonar device from her domed head as if to remind everyone that she was still there. “We could be a family,” Tesran said, deigning to lace a hand with Sindr’s. “If you want it.”

Sindr stared at him intently. His eyes filled with emotion. “I do want it.” As they watched Koda play, he added, “But what are we going to do about your mother?”

“We’ll cross that bridge soon enough,” he said, feeling a pit in his stomach open at the prospect of having to face down the pirate queen. They began walking towards little Koda across the sand. “Meanwhile…” he announced, lifting the sand-covered youngling and tucking him under his arm while the boy squealed and squirmed, laughing madly in a way only a child could. “…We have to get this little monkey-lizard cleaned up and ready for bed.”

HE-R0 booped and whistled — mutedly, from beneath the sand — something rather indignant.

“You’re getting a bath, too, young lady,” Tesran answered, pointing accusingly at the droid as she popped out of the hole Koda had buried her in. HE-R0 blew a disappointed raspberry.

Soon after, they were back in the privacy of their villa and sleeping arrangements had been made for Sindr to have his own room, if he should want it. The reunion between the two men had rekindled a dormant spark, but the dynamic of their relationship had shifted in a way Tesran could not explain. It seemed only right that they not jump back into thing too quickly, but move at a slower and steadier pace. The idea of separate rooms was Hasler’s, not Tesran or Sindr’s. If Tesran had his way, they would already be pretzeled beneath the sheets of a shared bed. He and Sindr were together again at last. He had longed for this reunion, and though those years had created a space between them, Tesran was confident they would once again regain lost ground … and sooner rather than later.

But for now he was content watching Sindr connecting with Koda. The boy was tucked in and cozy, all traces of sand washed from his hair and skin, as his Kaasari father smoothed the boy’s hair and traced the contours of Koda’s face with his fingers, getting to know each and every detail of it. Sindr wanted this for so long. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Sindr said. “I know you’re confused, little one. But I’ve dreamed of you in my heart for all these long years, thinking you were gone, and wishing that you weren’t. Yet _here_ you are.”

Koda’s big blue eyes were tired and red. “Are you really my dad?”

“I am.”

“And Tesran is my dad, too?” 

Tesran answered. “It’s true, Ko.”

“And it’s not pretend?”

“It’s not pretend,” Sindr said. “You have two fathers, just as every Kaasari child does.” The boy frowned with renewed confusion. “But hush now, Koda. You should go to sleep, and we’ll figure all this out more tomorrow.”

Koda nodded, his eyelids already drooping, as Sindr bent down to kiss his forehead. HE-R0 was tucked in beneath the covers beside him, two of her rail-thin, metal arms resting inert atop the soft fabric. Ever since they had come here, Koda had treated the droid much like a toy best friend, and insisted that HE-R0 be tucked into bed together. She swiveled her metal half-dome head and aimed her blue photoreceptor at Sindr, as if expecting to be tucked in as well. She warbled a soft, pleading sound.

Sindr looked at the droid, then back at Tesran. “She’s part of the family, too,” Tesran said with a shrug.

Instead of kissing the droid, he patted the droid’s head awkwardly. “Good night … metal … thing,” he offered.

HE-R0 purred and powered down, her bright blue eye fading into standby mode.

Tesran led Sindr toward the door where they turned to face one another. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep here?” Tesran asked, gesturing toward the bed behind him. “There’s plenty of room, and I … I’ve missed your company.”

Sindr smiled at him sweetly, then rubbed at his eyes as if they were itching. “As I’ve missed yours, but there’s a lot on my mind,” Sindr said. “I’m away from my planet for the first time in my life, and away from my people who are suffering. My closest friends are dead. My son is alive, after I spent his entire life thinking he wasn’t. And the man who loved me and then left me is standing in front of me.”

“Of course…” Tesran said, feeling the weight of Sindr’s words in his own chest. “I know you’ve been through _so much —_ and I realize some of it is my fault….” 

“My father’s dead,” Sindr said, his voice breaking into tiny bits. He took a step back from Tesran with tears shimmering in his eyes. “I haven’t had time to stop and mourn him. We were so close.”

Every instinct in Tesran’s body screamed at him to gather Sindr up in his arms and hold him as tightly as he possibly could, and kiss him, and stroke his hair, rub his back in loving circles. And so he did. The kiss was to the temple, and Sindr’s curls felt so soft in his hand, and his back felt so warm. 

“I’m here,” he half-whispered into his ear, his heart breaking for Sindr’s loss. He had never seen Sindr like this; one of the strongest Kaasari warriors falling to pieces in front of him. He knew Kaasari culture had no room for emotion. Much like the Jedi, now that he thought about it. It made Tesran love him even more. “I’m not going anywhere this time. Whenever you’re ready, or even if you’re _never_ ready, I understand. As long as you know that I’m here for you, Sin. Always.”

Sindr’s face was drawn with weariness and grief, but he managed a wet, tearful smile. “Good,” he said, forcing himself to smile. “Because if I _ever_ have to watch you leave in a starship again while I helplessly watch, I will _never_ forgive you.”

They parted for the night, but not before Sindr gave one last look toward their sleeping son, and when he was gone Tesran unburdened himself of his clothes, and sat on the edge of the bed in the quiet. The light dimmed into darkness.

The last several hours had turned his world upside now, to say nothing of the last few weeks. He had lost his Jedi family in the blink of an eye, and had been acquainted with his mother and father — and son! And reunited with Sindr, the one true love of his life. Like Sindr and Koda, he felt as though he had a thousand questions.

Sindr had been ousted from his home and hunted by his brother just as much as Tesran had been by the Empire. The parallel was undeniable. The Force was well at work on the both of them, but he could only wonder as to why.

____________________________

When the door slid shut behind Sindr, he leaned back and put his weight against it. He felt weary, overwhelmed, and sad, yes, but also … happy. Just behind him, mere meters away, his son was sleeping soundly, entirely unaware of the trauma his absence had created in Sindr’s life. His love for Koda swelled in his chest until he thought it might burst from within. How _badly_ he wished his father could meet his grandson. Of course, Talgr met Koda when he was first born, back when he still unnamed. But he wished his father could meet him now, as he was: a promising child that was heir to their legacy. He was healthy, adorable, and strong in the Force, according to Tesran. He would be the first heir in many generations with the ability to wield what the Kaasari called Ravgr’s Gift. The sorrow that filled Sindr was unimaginable. The sorrow, yes, and the rage. Uldr would pay for murdering their father. He would pay with his life. Death for death.

Tesran had done so well protecting Koda from the fall of the Jedi. Even if Tesran hadn’t realized Koda was his son, he had _surprisingly_ good paternal instincts. He always wondered, since the advent of his pregnancy and beyond, if Tesran would be a good father. Back then, Tesran seemed to never take anything seriously. But these last few years had really changed him.

The human had matured in other ways as well, Sindr thought as he remained slouched against the door. Tesran had been a skinny boy with spots on his face when they parted, however handsome, with long wavy hair as bright as the sun itself — a trait Kaasari never see in its own species. Now, Tesran’s body had become narrow at the hips and wide at the shoulders, with the dense muscles of a warrior. His hair was slightly darker now, but still long and blonde. Earlier that evening, when they stood on the twilit beach, Sindr couldn’t remember ever seeing a man as beautiful as Tesran. He wondered if Koda would grow up to be just as handsome.

A feeling of need entered his body and seized his stomach. His core tightened. It had been too long since he and Tesran shared a bed. The opportunity was through this door.

He turned and tried to open it, heeding the needs of his body. Doors had hinges where he was from. This _door thing_ had no hinges whatsoever, and instead slid open and shut. He looked this way and that for a handle or a knob, but instead found a section of buttons on the wall.

The need within his loins grew more and more desperate.

His fist slammed against the panel of buttons on the wall, and the door hissed open, revealing a naked Tesran, lit dimly in the incandescence of the room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

_________________________

“Sin?” Tesran looked up at him, half his face and body cast in shadow. His voice was a whisper. 

Sindr wasted no time: He pushed Tesran back on the bed and crawled on top of him. He wore nothing but his _skaap_ , so there was very little impeding them. “I’ve gone mad,” he whispered in Tesran’s ear, his hands clawing at his skin. “Because right now, all I can think about is you.”

“Mad?” Tesran said, wrapping his hands around Sindr’s strong hairy forearms. “It’s not that crazy, is it?”

“Yes,” Sindr whispered back, leaning forward to kiss the scruff of Tesran’s neck. “Because up until just recently, I thought I’d never see you again….”

“Well,” said Tesran, swallowing, as his body responded to Sindr’s trail of kisses down his chest. “You’ve definitely … ah … _definitely_ found me.” Sindr placed a palm on Tesran’s muscled torso and used it to maneuver himself into a more pleasing position atop him. “Just … uh … we need to keep it down, you know?” He used his head to point toward Koda, who was fast asleep on the bed across the room. HE-R0, likewise, was still powered down.

Sindr grinned savagely. “Then it’ll be a test of _silent_ endurance.”

____________________________

“How’s Freyr?”

“Old, like me,” said Etreskl.

Hasler briefly smiled. “That old hound will outlive us all.”

“Likely so.” 

The sandy street market bustled around them as the midday warmth fell hot on their skin. Street vendors crowded beneath the shade of their covered stalls and open-air sandstone houses were emptied of their residents who sought the comfort of a breeze they could not get indoors. The people of Bygone loved their pirate queen and showered her with praises, supplications, and gifts as she walked among them with her former husband, though she rejected their gifts one and all with a smile and a shade of her head. They loved her because since she took over the mantle of Bygone’s ruler she had released the populace from the tyranny of the former Pirate Lord’s costly taxes, and allowed more refugees to come live on the planet itself rather than on the space station in its orbit. There were many settlements and villages like this one scattered across the planet, some more developed than others.

They called her their queen, and she accepted the title and borne it proudly for their sake. She only wished that she could save all these people when the time came. Unfortunately, many of them would soon be dead. Their sacrifice was a horrible price that must be paid, and yet she would sacrifice them a hundred times over to protect her son and her grandson. Luckily, most of them would survive, and a great sacrifice wouldn’t be necessary.

Etreskl’s eyeless face was turned toward her as they walked, and she knew he was perceiving slivers and shades of her thoughts. “Your resolve has deepened,” he said, his tone held disappointment. He used his staff to clear a sand-covered DUM-series droid from his path. The droid wailed and scampered off. “But I sense something new in you. You’re afraid.”

Hasler turned right and Etreskl followed down through a row of crumbling houses. Palm trees arose around them, giving them welcome shade.

“Your grand scheme has been threatened, hasn’t it?” her former husband continued. He almost seemed to be gloating.

She sharply sighed, and her voice was quick as it said: “I won’t speak of it with you.”

“You haven’t changed,” he said disappointedly. “You use us and everyone around you. We are nothing more than puppets for you to play with. I deserve to know what you’re planning, after all you’ve put us through.”

“I did what was necessary,” she stated. “For the family.”

“What family?” he asked harshly. “We never were family. You never allowed us to be. You shattered any hope of it the moment Tesran was born.”

She stopped him with a raised hand as they came to stand in front of an old sandstone house with a fortified metal door. A keypad was fastened to the outer wall beside it. The alley was clear of villagers and an ominous silence hung around them.

Etreskl stepped toward the door as he leaned on his staff. Hasler knew he was perceiving his surroundings with the Force. “The door doesn’t match the house.”

“Recently, I eliminated a rival. As it turns out, he has a few more cousins I didn’t know about. They’re planning a coup.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Etreskl turned to face the door and reached out a hand. After a moment, the metal door began to shake and vibrate with such intensity that dust and debris began to crack and pop off the sandstone walls around it. Seconds later, Etreskl slammed his staff on the ground and the door was pushed forward, still fully upright as it smashed through three men inside before falling over, crushing them beneath its weight. In that same second, Hasler used the Force to leap after the door, a beam of blue igniting in her fingertips as she bounded through the room, slashing, hacking, and skewering her confused enemies. Two of the traitors got off stray shots before her lightsaber decapitated each of them in one strike. Across the room, Etreskl spun his staff adroitly in his hand and used its momentum, coupled with the Force, to throw it at three men who were still sat around a table. The wooden staff smacked each of them so hard their skulls cracked open.

A shape moved in the corner of the room toward Etreskl’s flank, but the old man sensed him coming, and spun to raise a hand. Emerald lightning darted from his fingers, consuming his attacker so fully that his skeleton flashed beneath his sizzling skin until the man’s corpse fell over.

To Hasler’s left, she saw a man attempting to flee through a window, but she pulled him toward her with the Force and caught him by the neck before she put the laser sword through his belly and out through his spine. “Your cousin is dead,” she told him as his eyes filled with pain and death. “And now so are you.”

The house was strewn with bodies when they were finished, and Hasler stood among them, picking up datapads and fingering through them before tossing them aside. She gave one last look over the bodies and then held her forehead as if she was being wracked by a headache, though it was only the unnecessary loss of life that pained her. Her old Jedi teachings told her this was the price of revenge; that they should have let it go and moved on with their lives. ‘Violence begets violence,’ as Tesran had so recently reminded her. Hasler knew this was her own doing. She instigated this by killing one of their family members. She was no Jedi anymore though, nor did she pretend to have perfect morality. She was a pirate queen. This was the life she had chosen.

When they were outside again they began walking toward the ocean. When they were near the ocean’s edge, just far enough to still be standing on dry sand, she sat down and brought her knees toward her and hugged them. She wished she had some whiskey.

After a moment, her ex-husband decided sit beside her.

“When I became pregnant with Tesran,” she began quietly. “I wanted us to be a family. I knew the Jedi would expel me, and I thought we could settle on Kaasar or some other world and raise our son together.” She scooped up a handful of sand and sifted it through her fingers. A starship passed far above, angling toward the stars. “But when he was born, the Force granted me visions of the future for a reason, and armed me with prophecies of tribulations to come. I couldn’t ignore them.”

“I know you couldn’t,” Etreskl said softly, though there still remained a bitter edge to his voice. “But I still struggle to forgive you for giving away our son. You could have at least—”

“You never would have consented,” she interrupted. “You never would understand.”

“No,” he said, nodding. “I never would or could. I had every reason to leave you.”

She nodded slowly. She would have done the same, had the reverse happened to her. She understood that and had long ago accepted it.

“And then you took the Presark’s secondborn son a year later,” he shook his head in disgust. “Then five years ago, you gave them our grandson as well. You did to the Presark-Prince what you did to _me_.”

“It was all part of the Force’s plan too—”

“—It was _monstrous_ ,” he spat, rising to his feet in anger. “You stole infants from their parents. I lamented Tesran’s loss for years. _Years._ I went mad.” His lips trembled. “By day, I buried myself in my studies of the greater mysteries, and by night I cried. I lost my mind slowly over the years, you know. I tore my own eyes out, tattooed and scarred my body. For years I’ve known only solitude and numbing silence….”

She reached out and placed a hand on his forearm. “Etreskl….” The blind old man was generous not to yank his arm from her touch. Instead, he allowed it, but she could sense his desire to. A rebuff she knew she deserved. “I’m sorry for the grief it caused you, I really am. But I did it for—”

“Yes, yes, I know _why_ you did it,” he grumbled. “And I don’t care. I only wanted to be a father to my boy, but instead, the job was left to some religious order. And now after twenty-one years, my own son sees me as a stranger he doesn’t know. My own son.”

“What of my own grief?” she asked. “I sacrificed my relationship with him for a greater cause. I gave my son to the very people who shunned me for having him. I was cursed by my own vision, but loved my son enough to give him away. But that is the past, and now we both have a chance to make it right.”

She could sense his anger blowing over slowly at the thought. “If it’s any consolation … I cannot see the future anymore,” she said, resting her chin on her knee. “For years now, I’ve been feeling my way through the dark.”

“You and me both,” Etreskl said, his voice ironic and sad.

“I only know the possibilities of what I saw _before_ I lost my foresight, and I’ve been trying my best not to deviate from them, but for all I know, the visions I had might have changed course. The future is always in motion. But the Clone War clouded everything even further. Once the dark side overcame the Force’s tenuous balance, my visions stopped altogether. The Sith now hold all the strings, and I nothing.”

“Well, there is a price to be paid for trying to control the future,” he stated. “You’ve always known it. So. What is your next move?”

“If my prior visions are still correct,” she began. “Then the Empire will soon arrive in full force looking for Tesran and I. Sheev Palpatine will want to interrogate me to learn more about Kaasar’s mysteries. My captains and their ships stand ready at a moment’s notice, and my allies in the nearby systems will come as soon as I call. The Bygone fleet is strong enough to repel the Empire for some time, but not indefinitely. I have preparations already made to evacuate as many of my people as possible, should that happen.”

“Where will they go?”

“To Kaasar,” she said. “They will be safe there once we help Sindr reclaim his throne, which he will, as I prophesied long ago.”

“You don’t know that,” Etreskl told her. “You said it yourself. You don’t know for certain anymore.”

“I’m certain _that_ part hasn’t changed. The Empire will follow us there. Palpatine wants the secrets of Kaasar to be his, which we cannot allow to happen. That is my purpose. To prevent him from snatching up the ancient Sith artifacts for his own nefarious uses.”

“The heart, you mean?”

She nodded. “And the holocron. He cannot be allowed to have either.”

“And if he does obtain them?”

“Then…” Her big blue eyes filled with uncertainty. “… the galaxy will have a thousand years of darkness.”

_______________________________

All thirteen were gathered, robed in black, hoods drawn, with tattooed midsections ceremonially bare. Some among them were grey-bearded, showing their tenure in the order, while the youngest of its members was twelve years of age. Rarely was the entirety of the Torn Sor Kaa seen together. They spent their days traveling between the clans, sharing wisdom and administering cures to the sick and dying, or officiating ancient rites and ceremonies. To see them all in one place was disconcerting. More: seeing them bow before their new Presark. 

Uldr had summoned the entirety of his Windriders, over a hundred strong, each of them tending to their tharroc and preparing them for an extended flight.

They were gathered atop the Windrider’s Terrace where the tharroc were kept, bred, and tended day and night. The Windriders themselves had a barracks here where they lived. Bresaln never came to this part of the ziggurat much. He had no skill for flying, nor did he love riding through the clouds or flitting through the jungle trees. He would much prefer to ride upon the feline casarc down here on the ground … where you couldn’t fall a thousand kilometers to your death. 

The bustle of the terrace was alarming. Bresaln looked at his Presark lover. “Why have you brought me here? What are you planning?”

Uldr had a twisted grin on his face. “The beginning of my reign,” he said. One of the younger members of the Torn Sor Kaa was applying the finishing touches to fresh ceremonial runes on Uldr’s chest, stomach, and arms which would offer him shielding from harm.

An older member of the Torn Order approached Bresaln with a pestle of paint to bestow upon him the same protection, but Uldr grabbed the man by the shoulder and glared at him. “What are you doing?”

It was a great offense to touch a member of the Torn Order without permission, but it would seem the Presark-King was immune to the rule. “I was going to offer protection to your consort and unborn heir….”

Uldr sneered at the man. “You may apply it to his fat stomach,” he said gruffly. “For the benefit of my heir. But the rest of him will remain as is.” 

“Wait,” Bresaln said, confusion settling in his eyebrows. “You mean for me to go with you?” He clutched his round belly even as the Torn Sor Kaa began to paint it with bright blue runes. “The pains have been coming more and more frequently. I sense my time will come today or even tomorrow….”

The hundred or so Windriders began to mount their tharroc. The antlered, fox-headed hawks screeched and yipped with excitement, creating a cacophony of sound that had not been heard in decades, not since the former Presark Talgr had summoned such a force to fly to war against the Wild Clans some years back. 

The Torn glanced upward from his work to look at Uldr. “Again, my lord, I urge you to leave your consort behind in this dangerous journey,” he said pleadingly. “An expectant father sometimes can sense when he will deliver his child, and such instincts must be heeded or else your heir will be at great risk.”

Uldr looked between the two of them. He looked ready to agree. But then one of the Windriders, a hardened bare-chested man wearing the customary feathers around his head, arms, and waist, brought forward the tharroc intended for Bresaln to ride. “Fine,” he harrumphed, and Bresaln thought he was off the hook and could remain at the Ziggurat to give birth in peace. But instead, Uldr dismissed the Windrider then gestured to his own golden-plumed tharroc. “He will ride with me. I’ll _personally_ keep him safe.” He motioned Bresaln toward his winged beast, giving his heavy belly an amused sneer. “Come now, my dearest and faithful consort. Climb on. We’ll watch you mount.”

The members of the Torn looked on, as did the nearby Windriders who were perched in their saddles atop their restless beasts waiting for their Presark’s command. Bresaln’s angular jaw clenched as he approached the beast Uldr named ‘Gorhal’, said to be a descendant of the god-king’s very own royal tharroc in days past. Gorhal was a wicked and prideful thing. He was the fastest tharroc of its generation and he seemed to know it. As Bresaln put a swollen foot in the stirrup, Gorhal fluffed his wings and screeled haughtily, as if Bresaln wasn’t worthy of riding him, but the pregnant consort wasn’t about to let himself be thrown. He grabbed a hold of Gorhal’s saddle and reins and pulled himself up to straddle the beast, his pregnant belly setting uncomfortably against the leather beneath and before him.

The Presark’s amused grin vanished. He was probably hoping for something more entertaining than what he was given — a fall, maybe.

Quickly, Uldr climbed up and slid into the saddle behind Bresaln and snaked his hands around his pregnant belly. “It’s a long flight past Abadn’s Gate,” he said into Bresaln’s ear.

With a yell and a hand gesture, Presark Uldr signaled his riders to leap off the Ziggurat’s edge and take to the skies. The sudden forward momentum and the feeling of falling made Bresaln’s stomach shoot up into his throat. Beneath the tight skin of his belly his unborn son began to kick and thrash. Feeling his son moving, Uldr said, “He likes flying. He’ll make a great Windrider, just like me.”  
Below them along the city streets and houses the people gathered in crowds to watch them fly off. As they flew, the Windriders took a V-formation with their leader at its fore, and the Torn Sor Kaa flying on black tharroc closest to him. The wind smashed unadulterated at Bresaln’s face, while Uldr tugged his flight goggles over his eyes. 

“Poor _hacron_ ,” he said. Bresaln knew he was using the Kaasari word ironically. Both of them knew by now that they weren’t each other’s soulmates. They were stuck with one another until Bresaln’s womb could no longer produce the strong blood sons Uldr so very much craved. Even amidst the clouds, Bresaln could not be free from his torment.

 

 


	7. Family Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hasler's pirates assemble; the family has an eventful breakfast

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**FAMILY BREAKFAST**

The wide doors split in the middle with a hiss and slid in opposite directions, opening up an expansive circular room that reminded Tesran very much of a command center aboard a battle frigate or cruiser. He was reminded that this fancy palace of his mother’s also doubled as a stronghold or fortress for the planet. The command center was sheltered on the lower levels of the fortress and deep in its center, sheltered from planetary bombardment by the immense duracrete, stone and marble of the structure. 

As he entered, Hasler turned toward him as did the others gathered at a chairless round table with a holodeck in its center, which projected a tactical re-creation of what Tesran recognized as the Bygone System. The planet Bygone itself floated amidst the stars, orbited by its lesser moons and its space station. The holoimages appeared to be reflected real-time, as representations of small and large starships moved about the holomap.

Hasler gestured for him to come closer. “My fellow brigands,” she said. “I’d like you to meet my son, Tesran.”

These ‘brigands’, as Hasler called them, were an assortment of eight fairly well-to-do beings who were not at all pirate-like. Among them was a purple Twi’lek, two Zeltrons who appeared to be twins, a Weequay, an Aqualish, and the rest were human. All were women. Some regarded him with eyebrows and leers, though the Zeltron sisters gave him a respectful nod. The Aqualish Tesran could not read.

“Your son?” the Aqualish’s voice clicked and rasped. “I was _clik-clik-clik_ not aware you had children, Hasler.”

“Just the one,” she stated, and Tesran thought he could discern some small measure of pride in her tone. “Though I admit I wasn’t expecting him to show up in _here_. Especially uninvited.”

Tesran pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Your butler droid was looking for you,” he said sheepishly. “Evidently your chef droid malfunctioned and your butler droid had to step in to prepare breakfast for the family. And then one of the cleaner droids knocked over some statue in the mess hall, which flattened the droid beside it into a pancake.” Tesran splayed out both hands and sighed as if he had been through an ordeal himself. “Must say, it’s been a colorful morning.”

The pirates stared at him for several long seconds until the Weequay woman began to cackle.

“Well then,” Hasler said. “It seems breakfast is delayed.”

Gesturing to the holoprojection in front of him, Tesran said, “So what’s all this? Called in the captains for some sort of scheme you’re planning?” His eyes shifted toward Hasler. “I know you love your schemes.”

His mother didn’t miss the slight against her, but she said nothing to address it. “Yes, in fact, I have. I’d love to hear your opinion on the matter.”

The Aqualish clicked her mandibles and snarled. “Your son he may be,” she said. “But I do not know him, and so _clik-clik-clik_ I do not trust him. And what knowledge does he have in combat tactics?”

“My son was a military tactician in the war,” she stated. “One of the few non-Jedi officers in the Republic Navy.”

It astounded Tesran how flawlessly she could spin a lie. The captains all appeared somewhat impressed — all accept for the Aqualish.

“We know at some point in the near future,” — Hasler continued — “That the Empire will invade Bygone for one reason or another, but especially to secure our hyperlane through to the Outer Rim. I refuse to treat with the Empire as I did with the Republic and wish to remain isolated. My captains and many of our allies stand with me on this. The problem is that we won’t remain isolated for long. The Empire has limitless resources, while we do not. Eventually Bygone _will_ fall, and it could take as little as a few hours or as long as a few months.”

The others voiced their agreement.

“Captain Eskena here believes we should abandon the system when the Empire arrives, and position our fleet and our space station at the hyperlane’s opening, so when Imperial forces drop out of hyperspace, they will find themselves surprised and immediately embroiled in battle with our ships. The distraction will allow the mobile space station and refugee transports to jump into hyperspace and towards safety. Our fleet would be essentially buying time for our non-military vessels to escape.” She toggled some controls and the holoprojection reflected Eskena’s strategy in full. “Captains Qena and Qla believe we should not surrender so easily, and instead repel the Imperials for as long as possible while we continue amassing resources for an eventual migration to a new home. She would have us allow the Imperial fleet to enter further into the interior of the system, and then bring in either half of our fleet to hit them from both sides, catching them in a pincer maneuver, while the space station full of refugees hangs back on the far side of the planet out of harm’s reach.”

All eyes turned toward Tesran, who saddled up against the holodeck and spread his palms against its cool surface as he watched the tactical update with the Voltron twins’ strategy. After a moment, he placed his hands on the tactical controls in front of him. “May I?” he asked toward his mother, who nodded in answer. Tesran zoomed in on the Bygone fleet and accessed their diagnostics and readouts. “Where’d you guys get a _Venator_ -class Star Destroyer?” he asked. That class of starship was the most powerful starship in the Republic-now-Empire.

“We asked the Republic politely if we could borrow it,” said the Twi’lek with a half-grin. The others chuckled.

“Is it fully manned?”

“Half,” Hasler said.

“Well,” Tesran began, folding his arms. “It’s a pretty ragtag fleet you have, but it’s enough to make the Empire blink. Your captains have good ideas, but it’s probably best if you avoid conflict altogether. There has to be some way to negotiate with the Empire. Another treaty, just like the treaty I—” He caught himself. These pirates didn’t know he was a Jedi, and it was infinitely better if they continued to not know his prior dealings with the former Bygone Pirate Lords. “—The treaty I _heard_ that you made with the Republic.” He looked at his mother. “There are thousands of refugees here who will suffer … all because you won’t make a deal.”

The pirate captains began to grumble but Hasler silenced them with an upraised hand. “The Empire will subjugate us no matter the deal we make with them.” She stood resolutely among her peers, her back straight, her chin lifted proudly. A queen. “Palpatine _is_ ruthless, and his ascendency as emperor will only exacerbate that.”

“I agree, Mother,” Tesran said, then froze as he realized that was the first time he called her that to her face. She, too, seemed to take recognition of it. He saw a small smile appear and disappear on her lips. He cleared his throat and went on. “But the Empire is here to stay. You and your people can stand around this table and make plans and strategies all you want, but the facts are that the Empire has unlimited power to funnel infinite ships against you, while you don’t. It’s wise to either cut your losses _now_ and find a new home in the Outer Rim far away from the Empire’s reach … long before they arrive. Or you can attempt to craft another treaty and hope for the best, but I will say the last time you did so, it was with the Republic. I think you’ll find it much more difficult this time around. Either way, Bygone has become eponymous. The glorious, infamous days of this piratical system are behind you, not ahead.”

It seemed like a concussion grenade had gone off inside the room. The captains glanced at one another, some of them whispered, others reflected silently.

“I agree,” said one of the captains, a human dressed in immaculate shimmersilk. Her dark hair was so long it reached her thighs, and so curly that Tesran wondered if it were straightened if it would reach the floor. “I don’t trust this new empire. We would do well to leave before the curtain falls.”

“The galaxy is large enough for us to find a new home,” said one of the Voltron sisters.

Her twin replied next. “We should leave while we have the chance.”

The Aqualish’s mandibles clicked together wordlessly a number of times before she replied: “As much as I hate to leave the oceans and sand behind me, I _clik-clik_ agree.”

The others nodded and assented in their own way. Tesran watched Hasler all the while as she didn’t react at all to the answers of her captains. She, up until that very moment, had been neutral. And when the room agreed, she smiled, pleased, and looked toward her son as if they had all arrived on the answer she was hoping for.

“Very well,” she said with finality, folding her hands in front of her. “We will begin preparations to abandon Bygone at once, and in a few weeks’ time, we will set course for new real estate. We, and the refugees, can find hope in a new beginning elsewhere. In fact, I already have a place in mind.”

As the captains began to leave, the Aqualish approached Tesran and introduced herself with an extended hand, which Tesran shook graciously. “I am Odorno Soor, captain of the _Ponderous Leap,_ ” she said, suddenly more amenable than she had been earlier. “Your _clik-clik_ mother is a fine person. I am honored and very glad to meet her son. But you should know that we serve _her_ , not you.”

Tesran nodded. “I’m okay with that.”

The Aqualish reached into her pocket and produced a death stick. She lit it with a lighter. Her four eyes blinked at Tesran as she placed the stick between her mandibles and smoked the entire death stick in one puff. The ashes of it remained in tact for a moment, then fell away into a billion floating motes. “I haven’t trusted a man in forty years,” she said, then walked away.

While Tesran tried to figure out what just happened, the two Zeltron sisters, Qena and Qla, approached him. They were identical in every way, with pink skin and green flowing hair. “I heard that there was a new handsome young man strutting about the fortress,” said Qena, shaking Tesran’s hand. 

Qla shook his hand next. “I didn’t know it was the son of our queen.”

“But now you do,” said Hasler, arriving to stand closely beside her son. “Thank you for coming, captains. I’m honored by your continued loyalty.”

Qena shrugged a shoulder and Qla smirked from one corner of her mouth. “The old Pirate Lords were too traditional,” Qla said.

“It is best to conform to modernity,” said Qena. "Than cling and die to old ways.”

Tesran found himself nodding in agreement. “Well said, I couldn’t agree more.”

“Times are changing fast,” Hasler added. “Too fast, even.”

“We’ll be seeing you,” said said Qena, giving Tesran a wink as they turned to leave.

When the captains were gone, Hasler gave her son a rare smile. “If only she knew.”

“Hm?” Tesran said, oblivious to the Zeltron’s flirting. “Knew what?”

“That you’re gay.”

“Mother….” Tesran said awkwardly, suddenly blushing.

“What?”

“Just … don’t.”

Continuing her smile, she turned on her heel. “Come with me,” she said. “There’s still time before breakfast.”

Tesran followed behind her. “Time for what?”

___________________________

The two opponents circled one another. They stood within a private dojo where there would be no one to see them, and there was a wide open space between them where mother and son prepared to test their skills against one another. Tesran’s bare feet were steady beneath him as he measured his mother’s form. She had a strong stance and he could tell by the smooth cadence of her feet that she was well trained. Their lightsabers activated at the same time, both as blue as the Bygone sky, but strings of electricity flashed across Hasler’s lightsaber intermittently in a way Tesran had never seen before.

“What’s wrong with your lightsaber?” Tesran asked.

“The kyber crystal is unique,” Hasler answered. “I found it in a cave on Eadu.”

Neither one of them moved against one another. The circle tightened as they gravitated toward one another.

“That stance was favored by your master,” Hasler observed. “Vu Sae was very good. Hard to beat, especially with those twin white sabers of hers.”

Hasler ran forward and struck first in a series of five lightning quick blows, the elegant beam of her lightsaber turning into a weaving blur. Tesran was driven backward as he blocked the first four hits, and barely deflected the fifth with the tip of his lightsaber, then followed it up with a bullish downward strike toward her head. He would never allow himself to injure her, of course. This was just for fun, after all. She caught the blow with her lightsaber — blue sparks spitting outward from the point of impact as their blades collided and locked. But Hasler spun out of it and lunged at Tesran’s chest.

The young Jedi flipped to his right in a side aerial, narrowly dodging the attack. When he landed on his feet, Tesran glared at his mother. “You almost—”

Tesran’s lightsaber flew out of his hand and landed in Hasler’s. She brandished both lightsabers in a series of twirls, then shot forward faster than a blaster bolt, swinging her weapons in short, tight arcs. Tesran was still trying to finish his sentence when he bounded out of the way just in time, then rolled and kicked upward to dodge Hasler’s chain of attacks, but no matter how quickly he tried to put space between them, she was _right there_.

“Did your master ever tell why her lightsabers were white?”

Suddenly, unarmed and against the wall with no where left to run, he turned about-face and caught her slender wrists before they could take his head off. Tesran’s teeth clenched together as his jaw flexed, all the while Hasler’s face was passive, though her eyes sparkled with inner determination.

“They were … red … once,” Tesran groaned as he tried to pry her wrists backward so that the lightsabers angled away from his face.

Hasler’s crescent moon necklace spilled out from her shirt and dangled between them. It was glowing white.

Using the wall behind him for leverage, he kicked his foot outward and caught Hasler in the stomach, causing her to stagger backward several steps. Tesran used the break in his opponent’s offense to charge at her. She swung her lightsabers widely but Tesran angled his body backward and slid forward on his knees, then reached up to successfully wrench his lightsaber back from her hand, then swooped it toward her ankles.

A flash of blinding light filled the room and Tesran’s blind swing passed through empty air. When he regained his sight Hasler was no where to be seen.

He stood to his feet and defensively held his lightsaber in both hands as he scanned the room: the rafters, the corners, the … well, there was no where else she could be. The room was entirely empty. She was one-hundred percent _gone_. 

“Uhhh,” he said confusedly. “…Mom?”

A voice from behind him said, “Well done. I was right to choose Das Vu Sae as your teacher.”

Tesran whirled around to see his mother standing with her arms folded behind her. The crescent moon necklace had been tucked back into her shirt. Tesran powered down his weapon, then scratched his head. “How did you ….”

“My butler droid should have our meal well in hand by now,” she said, then opened the door and put a hand on her hip, waiting for him.

“Are you going to explain how you just kriffing _poofed_ into thin air?”

She briefly combed her bangs then adjusted her pearl earrings. “Not today,” she said in a lilting voice, then waved him along. “Come on, it’s our first family meal. We don’t want to be later than we are.”

Tesran slowly, reluctantly, slid his lightsaber into pocket and joined her. “Seriously? You’re not gonna tell me how you did that?”

She smirked. “I’m a lady, and ladies never reveal their secrets.” His mother looked at him. Studied his face. Examined it. Tesran could almost feel her using the Force to glean something from his mind. She frowned.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

Tesran reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she glared at his hand and stepped backward.   
  
“Mother … what is it?”

She was silent a moment as they walked the lengths of the fortress’s marble hallways together. “I see you and your boyfriend plotting an ambush for me,” she said, lips drawn tightly.

He had to give it her: She had a keen perception in the Force. “Well … we have questions,” Tesran admitted.

She stopped and turned on him. “I planned this breakfast so that we can all meet each other, and take our first steps towards becoming a proper family. And you plan to sabotage it.”

He stared at her, but not unkindly. “Mother,” he said gently. She seemed to immediately soften at the word, her tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “If we’re gonna be _proper_ family, as you say, there are questions that need to be answered. Conversations that we _gotta_ have. Call me crazy, but I think there’s a lot of things you haven’t told me yet. Things me and Sindr should know.”

She frowned sadly at him, looking more vulnerable than Tesran had ever seen her before. It was very odd to see a powerful pirate queen seem suddenly so fragile. She shook her head and cast her eyes downward. “I sent you to become a Jedi,” she said almost in surrender. “I guess I should have accepted that you’d be more perceptive than the average lout. You are my son, after all.” She raised her blue eyes to look at him, and then nodded. “I’ll tell you everything, then. But only after we finish our meals.”

“Deal,” Tesran said in a lighter tone, though he found himself unable to smile. He got the impression that what he and Sindr were about to hear wasn’t going to be pleasant.

She leaned in closer and changed the subject. “So, how did it go last night?”

Tesran felt caught off guard. “What … what do you mean?”

“The servant droids reported Sindr didn’t sleep in his room.”

“Mother,” Tesran said after a moment of dread and inward reflection. “I … think it’s _probably_ best if we talk about boundaries.”

“Oh,” she said awkwardly. “Yes. You’re right, of course. Boundaries.”

___________________________

The long breakfast table was brimming with delicacies of island-grown fruit and local eggs taken from the native chickens, and meats imported from all over the galaxy. Tesran dined on meals less savory than this one with planetary monarchs, dignitaries, ambassadors and governmental officials. It had simply been delicious, but they long finished eating, and the subject of conversation went about as good as Tesran thought it would go. Hasler just explained, and justified, her reasoning for abducting Ardr and Koda from their cribs while they were infants. 

Infants. 

She was justifying abducting _infants_.

Sindr looked ready to spring on her from across the table. Etreskl looked paler than normal. Koda looked ready to cry, no doubt because of the emotional storm that was raging within the room through the Force. Tesran’s whole body was tense. He was trying to read Sindr’s intentions, making sure that whatever happened, Sindr would keep his cool. Kaasari blood runs hot.

Tesran had to admit Sindr wasn’t the only one running hot at the moment.

Infants.

She was _justifying_ abducting _infants_.

Etreskl was the one to speak up first. “Let’s all just….”

The Force shifted suddenly towards darkness.

In one motion, Sindr sprung onto the table, crouched like a casarc, and leapt toward the older woman with murder in his eyes. His hands were extended like claws, and his face was beast-like. Tesran’s reaction was automatic as he reached out with the Force to redirect Sindr’s path, so that Sindr’s leap sent him skidding across the marble floor behind Hasler.

Everyone stood in alarm and Koda began to whimper.

“Sindr,” said Tesran firmly, shoving his chair back and running toward him before he could launch a second attack against Hasler. “This isn’t the answer!” Sindr fought back, but at half strength. He didn’t want to fight Tesran. He wanted Hasler. “Stop. Hey. STOP!” Sindr continued lashing out, but Tesran was there, holding him back with every muscle in his body. “This gets us no where!”

“Let me go,” Sindr shouted. “She’s mine!”

“She made a mistake!” Tesran shouted at him, finally. “She made _more_ than a mistake, but this isn’t the way we fix problems.”

“She took him,” he frothed, not hearing Tesran’s words. “ _She took my son from me_! She took my _brother!_ ”

“I know,” Tesran said as the two men’s muscles strained against one another. “I _know_. And she’ll pay for that in her own way, but this needs to stop. It needs to stop _now_. You’re scaring Koda.”

That seemed to freeze Sindr in place. His wide, red, hurt-filled eyes remembered that their son was in the room, and when he looked at Koda, crying in Etreskl’s arms, he seemed to forget every violent intention in his body. It seemed like for a moment he wanted to go to Koda and try to make it better, but the youngling wanted nothing of it.

“Sin,” said Tesran, trying to bring him back around. “Take a breath, all right? Take a—”

Sindr strode from the room.

Tesran came to stand abreast from his mother, who was unshaken and defiant to the last. “Are you pleased?” he asked her.

Their blue eyes locked unhappily, but moments later she was the first to look away. Once their eyes broke contact, Tesran went to Koda and relieved him from Etreskl. The boy was heavy with fear and confusion, but Tesran would guess the boy had understood more about what just happened than he realized. Tesran hugged him tightly and asked the Force to bring him peace.

It seemed to work. Koda stopped sobbing and buried his face in Tesran’s neck, where he could feel the wetness of his tears. Beside them, HE-R0 floated nearby, her repulsors whining mutedly. She trilled at them sadly, expressing her desire to help.

“It’s okay, Heero,” he said to her. “He’ll be fine.”

With one last final look, Tesran left Hasler where she stood, carrying Koda out of the breezy room and through the hallway back toward their lodging while HE-R0 bobbled sullenly behind. Before he could make it far, a voice called after him. “Tesran,” it said. “My lad, wait.”

Etreskl lumbered toward him, using his staff to carry himself. Tesran stopped and waited for him to catch up. Koda by now had grown silent as his face remained buried in Tesran’s neck.

“Tesran,” said the blind man, at last coming close enough to lean tiredly against his staff. “I … I am so sorry, my lad. So sorry….”

Tesran held Koda close to him. “It’s all right … dad.” He forced himself to use the word. Would ‘father’ be more appropriate? Or maybe just Etreskl? “You had nothing to do with it. She fooled you, as she fooled all of us.”

“For that,” he wheezed. “I am just as guilty.”

“No, you said yourself, she gave me up without telling you. And she kidnapped Sindr’s baby brother without telling you, and Koda, too.” He reached out to rest a hand on his father’s guiltless shoulder. “You’re a victim to her ideals.”

“No …” Etreskl mumbled weakly.

“Dad,” said Tesran. “Every religion has fanatics. There were Jedi like that, too. She took it too far.”

Slowly, he agreed with a nod. “She did. But don’t give up on her, my son. Her visions were real. I sensed greatness in you, but whereas I only _sensed_ it, she _saw_ it. She is no fanatic, as you say.” 

“You’re defending her?”

“Not her actions,” he said wearily. “But she did sacrifice her relationship with you, her only son, for a cause greater than herself. That is not nothing.” He gathered his breath and a smile appeared unexpectedly on his lips. He reached a hand directly toward Tesran’s face. “May I?”

Tesran looked at his blindfolded father, realizing after a moment what he wanted. “Okay.”

Etreskl’s palm touched Tesran’s nose as his fingers began to trace every inch of his face, from the contours of his eyebrows, to the hollows of his cheeks, to the square of his jaw. All the while, Etreskl’s smile was bigger than Tesran had ever seen it. “My _son_ ,” he said with such pride that tears began to burn Tesran’s eyes and threaten to spill over. _Yeesh, my Jedi training has really gone to poodoo lately._ His father felt those tears, and dried them with his fingers before they could fall. “Don’t cry, sh-sh-sh,” he whispered, as if he was comforting a baby. Tesran knew the man had missed out on twenty-one years of fatherhood, and allowed him the chance to be a father again. Tesran, after all, could relate on some scale. “There, there, my son. Don’t cry.”

A moment so pure as this touched Tesran’s spirit. Love. It was the purist emotion of them all. He questioned why the Jedi would ever outlaw something so _good._ An emotion so full of light.

Etreskl’s hand then lowered and found Koda’s back. “And may I?”

But before Tesran could answer, Koda nodded.

“He can’t see you nodding, Ko,” Tesran said gently. “You have to answer him out loud. Blind people learn people’s faces by touching them. It helps them know you better. Can your grandpa touch your face, so that he might know you?”

Koda was a smart kid and seemed to understand. “Okay.”

Etreskl’s hand traced Koda’s face, the upturned nose, the closed eyes, and the mouth. “My grandson,” Etreskl whispered with a smile on his bearded lips. “You must look a lot alike.”

“So I keep hearing,” Tesran said. “We’ll both probably look like you when we’re old men.” 

Guffawing, Etreskl shook his head. “I hope not, my lad. You don’t want anything to do with this ugly face. You both look like Hasler, and be grateful for that.” Then he gestured for them to walk together through the hallway. Tesran walked abreast with his father, using the same leisurely pace as the older man, whose walking stick clicked along the marble. When they were outside on a sunny terrace, he put Koda down so that he might walk on his own. It was Tesran who broke their silence. “You’re not entirely blind, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed. “The Tide guides me.”

“The Tide?”

“My people’s interpretation of the Force,” he said as they came to overlook the ocean. Etreskl seemed to be basking in the sunshine with his face upturned. After a moment, he reached up and untethered his blindfold and tucked it into a pocket at his waist. He lowered his chin and turned his face toward Tesran. His eyes were pale, all color drained from them, and there were old scars trailing down across his eyelids and toward his cheekbones. “I’m from a primitive ocean planet called Lew’el. I lived on a rocky island. The ocean was our way of life, our source of food and culture. We tamed winged beasts known as wind-trusters and used them to hunt marlins and other fish in the sea. We trusted in the Tide, and the Tide provided.” He lifted a hand to touch the scars on his eyes. “Though you call it by a different name, the Tide and the Force are much and the same. And, still, even after living much of my life away from the ocean’s of my people, my trust in it is still rewarded.” He motioned grandly toward the ocean. “This world’s ocean is much different than mine, but it does feel good to hear the thunder of its waves. Kaasar’s oceans, too, were at times a source of great comfort for me … when I was feeling alone.”

“May I ask what happened to your eyes?”

Etreskl seemed to gather himself before he spoke. “Your mother and I were madly in love once. When she became pregnant with you, I was overjoyed, as any father should be at the prospect of new life. Though I had become master of the Torn Sor Kaa, and had learned much about the Force and its powers, I felt there was something missing in my life. Presark Talgr was a good friend of mine and relied on me for my powerful connection to the Force, and it was he that originally introduced me to your mother. Unlike most Kaasari, Talgr did not have an aversion toward starborn, and he liked the Jedi who visited and was proud that other civilizations would come to his planet to learn more about his people and its past. 

“Our love for one another was more than fulfilling, and the promise of your arrival was the answer to the absence I felt. When she was expelled from the Jedi Order for choosing you over their religion, she came to live on Kaasar with me. Those months of nesting and lovemaking were the best of our days, and ironically, the beginning.” He leaned heavily on his staff. “The _moment_ you left her womb, her eyes went back into her head. She lay in the birthing bed while I held you in my arms with the umbilical still attached, and she had her first clear vision. A prophecy of the future. We learned that your destiny was intertwined with that of the planet you were born on: Kaasar.”

Tesran’s eyebrows flashed upward. “The records held that I was born on Coruscant.”

“They didn’t know where you came from,” Etreskl scoffed. “Only that you had shown up at their doorstep in infancy, handed over to them in person by your former Jedi mother. You see, her vision, in her mind, justified her actions. She knew that in order for you to reach your full potential, to achieve your destiny, she had to give you up.” He paused, shaking his head. “That was hard on her. A fact I had selfishly forgotten as my own grief took center in my heart and soul. I had only held you in my arms, cradled you, cleaned you but a total of thirteen days before she you took you away. I was off on business with Presark Talgr, and when I came back, you were gone.”

Tesran could sense the grief bubbling in his father’s heart.

“I was hysterical with grief,” he said softly. “She tried to explain to me many times, but I couldn’t hear it. Our love was erased in a matter of months after your birth. She left Kaasar. I sought solitude. Eventually I left the Torn Sor Kaa. Years of silence and grief … clawed at me.” He put aside his staff, then curled his fingers and raised them to his eyes, dragging them down across his face, following the trail of his scars. It was a reenactment, Tesran realized, of his grief. He had clawed his own eyes. “I thought only of you, and how I missed you. How I could not bear to live without you.”

Tesran felt his heart aching.

 “Blinded by my own grief, still I held onto the hope of seeing you again. Your mother and I saw little of each other for the last twenty-one years, but she would visit me sometimes, and though it chagrinned me to even be near her, she would tell me some of her visions. She said I would meet you again one day, and here you are, and at the center of something much bigger than all of us.”

“I can only wonder what that could be,” Tesran said sarcastically. “It seems a big mystery.”

“I only know that Sindr and his brother, Ardr, are caught up in it,” he said. “As well as your son and some others. And that the Emperor is searching for two ancient Kaasari artifacts that could solidify his rule on the galaxy for the foreseeable future … and beyond.”

Over breakfast, Hasler explained to him that Ardr was still alive; that he survived the Jedi Purge. If that wasn’t shock enough, he realized that Ardr was actually Sindr’s middle brother. If Tesran could find his old friend, it would be a source of unimaginable relief for him, not only because he wouldn’t feel so alone in the galaxy, being one of very few surviving Jedi, but because he missed his friend.

Tesran set all that aside for now and thought of his mother. “She has to pay for what she’s done,” Tesran said. “Sindr won’t rest until she does.”

“I’ve struggled with that myself,” he said tiredly. “I won’t pretend and say that what she did was right. But I will admit that there is something to her visions, and that she has made incredible sacrifices for them. And for you. There is an old Lew’el teaching that goes like this: ‘For every ebb there’s a flow; for every flow there’s an ebb. The full moon must wane just as the new moon must wax. Happiness turns to sorrow; sorrow is reborn as hope. There is nothing constant but change in the Tide, and I am Change.’” He slowly turned his pale eyes toward him. “Think on that, my son, before you decide anything rash.” He turned around, but instead of heading back inside, he started toward the steps that led down toward the water. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like some time alone with the sea.”

“Of course, Father,” he said as the wind blew between them. “I’ll think on what you’ve said.”

 ________________________________

Later that day, Sindr and Tesran clashed with each other, quarterstaffs in hand, as they sweated their aggressions out. It was Tesran’s idea, and Sindr knew it was his lover’s way redirecting their anger away from that child-stealing mother of his. Worse still was how Sindr had upset Koda, his son who hardly knew him. Now was not the right time to make bad first impressions, not if he wanted to form a bond with him. 

The _clack-clack-clack_ of the wooden poles slamming against one another was almost drowned by the crashing of the ocean against a nearby cliff as their feet danced along hot sand. Sindr wasn’t acclimated to battling on sand. He was used to damp soil beneath his feet, or the rough bark of massive tree bridges far above the jungle floor, or the clammy stones of his family’s humidity-dampened ziggurat. On sand, his legs had to work harder if he wanted to keep up with his muscled and lightning-fast partner.

Sweat rolled down their sun-kissed backs. Sindr’s curly dark hair was tied behind his head as he pushed on the back of his heel and lunged forward with the quarterstaff, catching Tesran’s right shoulder hard. Tesran was surprised — Sindr hadn’t managed to land a hit since they started sparring.

Tesran lowered his staff and clutched his shoulder, grimacing and smiling all at once. “Hey, that hurt!”

Sindr scoffed and gave Tesran an incredulous, pitiable look. “Little _baby_ ,” he said mockingly.

In answer, Tesran pushed out his bottom lip in a pout.

“Cute,” Sindr smiled, then drew back, spinning his staff in his hand, and prepared for another round. Tesran did the same, jumping lightly in place to warm up as he spun his staff in his right hand, then his left, then his right, then his left. 

“Done playing with your staff?”

“I want you to play with it next,” Tesran said, then winked.

“After last night,” said Sindr, sinking into a combat stance. “I would say you’ve gotten quite good at playing with staves. And you definitely can sustain your … staff-playing … for much longer than I remember.”

Tesran gave a beaming half-smirk, then leapt toward Sindr, bringing down a heavy downward strike, which Sindr parried with the middle of his staff, using both hands to absorb to shock. Sindr pushed with all his strength, then whirled a kick toward Tesran’s exposed midsection, but Tesran saw it coming — no doubt thanks to his Force — and arched his body in a ‘C’ shape so that Sindr’s foot came within inches of its intended destination. Tesran then grabbed hold of Sindr’s leg with one arm, ensuring Sindr couldn’t wrench it away, and then swung the quarterstaff around his body and used its momentum to give a powerful thwack against Sindr’s head. Milliseconds before the blow could land, Sindr angled his body backward, bringing his leg and Tesran who clutched it backward with him. Tesran’s quarterstaff flailed wildly off track, as he collapsed directly on top of Sindr’s sweaty chest, who’s backward momentum had landed him sprawled out in the sand.

For a while they just laughed and breathed against one another, unwilling to move from the closeness of each other’s bodies. They were both panting slightly from the exertions of their sparring. They set their weapons away and stared upward at the underside of a palm tree, thankful for its shadow and the breeze that cooled them.

“Well done,” Tesran said, propping himself up in the sand beside Sindr, keeping one hand spread against Sindr’s toned midsection. “You’ve gotten _way_ better. Your father taught you well.”

That made Sindr smile fondly. He liked that Tesran would recognize his father’s influence in his combat style. “You two trained together many times, I recall.”

“He was quite good,” said Tesran. “Especially for an old man.”

“He was only thirty-nine when he died,” Sindr said with a wistful smile that quickly soured. He just reminded himself that his father was dead and gone; the wound created by that sudden loss was still new and raw. The loss still hadn’t set in fully; hadn’t solidified into reality. Inside, he recognized that his brother had murdered their beloved father. But on the surface, it still didn’t seam real. Or maybe it was the other way around: that inside it didn’t seem real. How could it feel real? Nothing since Talgr’s death did.

“I’m sorry,” Tesran said, reaching his hand out so that his fingers could smooth Sindr’s wayward curls. “It feels perverse, doesn’t it?”

Sindr turned his silver eyes toward him. “What does?”

“That I should gain my father,” he said morosely. “And that you should lose yours.”

Sindr didn’t know what to say to that. It was indeed a wild reversal of fortunes. A thought occurred to him just then, however. “No,” he said in thoughtful disagreement. “I’ve lost my father, yes. But you’ve gained your parents, both of them, even if one is _completely_ mad.” 

“Etreskl _the Mad_ , you mean?” asked Tesran.

“Funnily enough, your father is quite sane,” said Sindr. “I meant your _mother_.”

“But we’ve both gained our son,” Tesran said. “At least one good thing came out of all this.”

“And my lost brother is alive, too.” Sindr was only one year old when Ardr was born and taken, so he had no memory of him. 

“It’s strange,” Tesran said. “I was best friends with your brother all these years, and I had no idea.”

Sindr looked off and shook his head slowly. “What was he like?”

Tesran’s eyebrows flickered. “Well now that I think about it, he’s totally Kaasari. Hot blooded, quick to anger, very physical. He even looks like you: dark hair, silver eyes.”

“Were you ever attracted to him?”

That drew a funny look from Tesran. Sindr didn’t intend for the question to sound jealous, though it undoubtedly did.

“I wasn’t,” Tesran said matter-of-factly. “Though I will admit he was _very_ good looking.”

With narrowed eyes, Sindr said, “Oh _really_? So you _were_ attracted to him.”

“I also thought Anakin was quite attractive,” said Tesran. “And a dozen other boys my age, and maybe even a few masters.” Tesran’s eyes went distant for a moment, as if he was remembering something. Quinlan Vos came to mind. “It’s a confusing time for a young Jedi,” he said. “But in the end, I managed to fall in love and have a baby with you. So, what does it matter? After I came back to Coruscant from Kaasar, I was distant for a long time. Ardr and the others tried to cheer me up, but the truth was, I missed you a lot.”

Tesran then got up and went toward a pile of his clothes. He fumbled around in the fabric and then produced a metal device. Sindr sat up as Tesran plopped down next to him in the sand. He held the device outward, and then a holoimage appeared, and he was shocked to see a young version of himself — pregnant — rotating slowly in a blue projection.

“How did you…”

“Heero’s dataprocessors are always recording,” said Tesran. “But she can only store so much in her databanks before she has to purge them, to make room for more recordings. On the way back home from Kaasar, after my master forced me to leave you behind, I had Heero capture a holostill of you from her memory bank.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t allowed possessions.”

“We’re not,” Tesran said. “But after being with you, loving you, making a child with you … I figured ‘what’s the harm in breaking one more rule’?” They stared at the rotating holoimage together. “I slept with it beneath my pillow every night. I’d fall asleep watching you rotate slowly in circles, around and around, and I’d wake up to you almost every day.”

“Weren’t you ever caught?”

“Once,” said Tesran. “Anakin walked in. I fell asleep staring at it one evening and he barged in. But he thought I was just studying your species' biology for some project, or something like that.”

Sindr looked at Tesran for a long time, seeing in this slightly older version of him the teenaged boy he used to be. “Tesran, we need to go back to Kaasar.”

“Well, if my mother’s prophecy is right, then it seems like we’re destined to anyway.” Tesran cupped Sindr’s bearded cheek. “I want to help you take back your world. I want what you want.”

Sindr smiled, feeling the gravity pulling them together. He thought of last night and the silent passions they shared in the dark.

“What were you saying earlier?” asked Tesran, leaning forward to kiss Sindr’s mouth.

“About what?” Sindr kissed back.

“Something about … playing with staves?”

For many long, impassioned moments the two men kissed as if their lives depended on it. Sindr ran his hand through Tesran’s sandy sweaty hair and relished the feeling of their beards brushing together. But a shadow passed across Sindr’s face and he pulled away.

“Sin?” asked Tesran. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

Sindr shook his head. “Your mother, Koda, everything,” he said angrily. “I can’t get it out of my mind. We need to do something. Your mother needs to be punished.”

“Sindr, I think today was punishment enough for everyone. We’re all hurt by what she did, we’re angry. Understandably so. And Koda will get over it, I promise. But what if Hasler’s right about her visions? What if we are the key to saving not only Kaasar, but the galaxy?”

“I don’t give a damn about the rest of the galaxy. I only care about Kaasar, my son, and you,” Sindr said. “And what are we saving Kaasar from? Uldr? You and I can manage that together. We don’t need her help.”

Tesran looked off toward the sea in thought. “My father said something about two Kaasari artifacts the Emperor is looking for. He said if the Emperor gets them, the entire galaxy will suffer. That includes your people, me, and Koda, too, you know.” He took Sindr’s hand. “Do you know what artifacts he’s talking about?”

“There are thousands of lost relics,” Sindr shrugged. “There were a handful we think were created by the God-King, but they’ve been lost. His flaming weapon, for one -- what you would call a lightsaber, I guess. And some sort of key that allowed one to commune with the God-King’s dead spirit. There’s also his armor which is said to be impenetrable, and the chariot he traveled the stars in.”

Nodding, Tesran scratched his beard. “I wished I paid more attention when I was studying your people with my master.”

“You only ever studied _one_ of my people,” stated Sindr, bringing his face close to Tesran’s for another kiss. “Me.”

Tesran hummed as their lips joined once more. “And I studied every inch of you, didn’t I?”

Sindr grinned as he pushed his starborn man onto his back. “Inside _and_ out,” he said.


	8. Dark Arrival, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bygone is threatened.

CHAPTER EIGHT  
DARK ARRIVAL, PART I

It had been one week since Tesran had last seen his mother. He and Sindr had been avoiding her since their disastrous family breakfast and he was praying that if they did run across one another, Sindr wouldn’t try to rip her head off. As capable of a warrior that Sindr was, Tesran had a feeling his former-Jedi mother wouldn’t be so easily beheaded. Luckily, the Bygone fortress was huge and spacious, and though they’d had meals with Etreskl, they had been assured that Hasler would not be making any appearances.

That is, until today.

Etreskl and Tesran, with HE-R0 perched like a parrot on his shoulder, were walking through the long, tall corridors together toward one of the private dining rooms where they were supposed to be having a quiet evening meal with Hasler, who had arranged the whole thing and was, according to Etreskl, prepared to apologize. Evidently, she was going to share the full extent of her prophecy tonight, so that everyone could better understand the ‘why’ of her actions. Tesran had to admit that he was interested to hear this prophecy for himself, but he was also eager to put all of this behind them so that they could have some peace around here.

Over the last week he bonded tremendously with his father. He had given thought to Etreskl’s Lew’el adage, and recognized in it the message of accepting change, and being the agent of change itself. For the last week, life was _good_. But the shadow of his mother hung over it like a Sith’s shadow.

He wanted to make it right, even if Sindr refused to come, and refused to allow Koda to join them. Tesran fully argued that Koda should be there, to spend time with his grandmother, however duplicitous she might be. But he understood why he didn’t want either him or their son to be around her. He understood it, but didn’t like it.

“He’ll come around,” Etreskl was saying to him as they slowly walked together. “He’s hurt and angry, as he should be.”

“Well,” said Tesran. “If of all people, _you,_ who’ve been hurt the most by her, can stand to be in the same room with her, then the rest of us don’t have any excuses.”

From his shoulder, HE-R0 was grooming Tesran’s hair affectionately, making sure his lengthening locks were tucked neatly behind his ear. Tesran almost wanted to shoo the droid, but she was just trying to comfort him in her own way. Plus, it felt kind of nice. He hadn’t touched his hair or his beard in a while and both were becoming unruly. Luckily for him, Sindr seemed to like it that way.

“Come now, lad,” Etreskl was saying. “That’s not fair. I’ve had years to accept what she has done. Not so for the rest of you. Not so at all.” His staff _clink-clink-clinked_ on the marble as they came to stand before a large door. He turned his blindfolded face toward his son. “Hopefully tonight you will be able to make peace with her. And in time, your _hacron_ will as well.”

“ _Hacron_ ,” Tesran said, smiling at the word. “You use ancient Kaasari words fairly often for an off-worlder.”

“Off-worlder?” said Etreskl tartly. “I resent that. I spent most of my life on Kaasar!”

“Do you see yourself more Kaasari than Lew’elan?”

“I will always be Lew’elan,” stated Etreskl with pride, then pulled down the hem of his tunic to show his Kaasari runes on his chest. “And though I may not be able to breed like the Kaasari, I consider myself one of them, too, and have the tattoos to prove it.”

As he readjusted his tunic, the door behind him leading into the dining room opened…

… and a red beam of pointed light erupted from Etreskl’s chest. Tesran’s blind father gave a tight gasp, then began to gag on that single breath of air, his body convulsing.

Tesran recognized a lightsaber when he saw one.

The crimson blade deactivated suddenly, and Etreskl slumped over; his feet failing him. His staff fell from his grasp and rolled along the floor. Tesran caught his father in both arms, taking the man’s full weight against him. He was surprised at how light his father felt, as if the old man was more air than person. The hair-curling scent of burnt flesh brought Tesran back from his shock as he registered his father’s murderer: A crimson-armored being with a strange circular lightsaber hilt in his hand. The figure was taller than Tesran and broad-shouldered, but some of that height and width could account for the battle armor he wore.

HE-R0 squealed and squawked as she bounded up to float beside her master, every weapon configuration available to her readying for combat. Tesran felt his father grow limp in his arms. “No … Father …” There was no Jedi calmness or serenity here. The Jedi Code was the furthest thing from his mind. 

Etreskl’s voice was less than a whisper. “My … son ….”

“Well, well, _well_ ,” said the crimson-armored knight, his voice crackling menacingly through a vocoder. His face was masked behind two dark eye slits in his helmet. “So touching. Tesran Hunt has a loving father? How surprising.”

A few more seconds later and Etreskl’s spirit faded. There was nothing to be done. No way of saving him. No miracle to perform. Tesran felt utterly powerless as he lowered his father gently to the ground.

His eyes narrowed at the armored figure. “You _killed_ him,” Tesran said accusingly, his voice breaking with emotion. He felt like a giant oggdo had curled up in his throat. Floating beside him, every weapon, shock claw, and appendage of HE-R0’s emerged to point toward their new adversary. Like Tesran, she ready to fight. “You killed my father.”

“You have no ‘father’,” the crimson being snarled. “No mother. No lover. No son. You are a Jedi, and a Jedi has _only_ his brothers and sisters. And they’re all dead, too.”

Tesran’s feet widened into a combat stance. “You’re wrong.”

HE-R0 gave a battle-beep as her pincers buzzed with a spark of electricity.

The modulated voice of the red-armored person laughed, mocking him. He appeared to be facing something or someone behind Tesran. “So, I am.”

Tesran heard Sindr’s voice. “Tesran?”

“Sindr,” Tesran called back. He could sense Koda’s presence even without looking. “Take Koda. Run.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“Take him,” he said. “Find Hasler.”

“Hasler?” Sindr objected.

“If I can’t save you,” he said. “She will.”

Sindr lingered for a moment before Tesran heard his footsteps retreating down the far hall.

The crimson figure seemed more interested in Sindr than he did Tesran, so Tesran decided to use that moment to his advantage. He turned toward his master’s droid, and said, “Now, Heero!”

The minuscule droid darted forward and struck the crimson-armored man with her stun-claws so fast there could be no hope of dodging it, and by the time his adversary got back to his feet, Tesran had unburdened himself of his flowing, shimmersilk shirt and drew the hilt of his lightsaber from the folds of his trousers. 

“Who are you?” Tesran asked, the weapon still yet unactivated within his fist. “Why are you here?”

“Don’t you know me?” asked the man, his circular-hilted lightsaber activating scarlet in his hand. Then, another blade extended from the lightsaber’s opposite end, revealing the weapon to be double-bladed. “They call me Red Brother.”  
Tesran’s lightsaber activated in answer, casting his lean, scarred body in a blue light. _A double-bladed lightsaber,_ he thought, and remembered back toward his training with one of the Temple’s droids, which had the ability to mimic the styles of certain adversaries _._ One of which was Darth Maul, who famously fought and killed Qui-Gon Jinn with a double-bladed lightsaber. But Red Brother’s Jedi weapon was more than that — this double-bladed lightsaber began to spin so fast it became a blurred circle of Sith fire.

“Heero, find Sindr and Koda.” His tone was one the droid could not argue with. “Protect my son.”

_______________________________

“We have to help him!” Koda screamed as he was carried away. “We have to help!”

Sindr clutched his son tightly against him as they ran the other way, leaving the whirring, humming, and slashing sounds behind them. Whoever was in that strange red armor killed Etreskl, who had been laying lifelessly on the floor. Etreskl had easily dispatched that outpost of outlaws on Batuu — surely he put up a fight before he fell? Regardless, he had to find Hasler. He didn’t like the woman, but she held all the strings of power here on this strange planet, and Tesran needed the aid of her people.

In his arms, Koda was squirming, reaching over his shoulder back toward the way they had come as if that would somehow keep him from being taken away. “Let me go!”

“We will come back for him,” he said reassuringly. “We’re gonna help him, but I need my bow!”

________________________________

It was a beautiful evening on Bygone. There were no clouds in the sky, the water was exceedingly clear and bright blue lit afire by a golden sunset. Palm trees were swaying happily back and forth as if to wave goodbye to another Bygone day. It would’ve been a wonderful evening to make amends with her family. If this shadowy figure wasn’t standing in her way, she would have had the most perfect view of the sun setting over the ocean. 

Every door along the rectangular dining room slid shut by an unseen command, leaving the open-air terrace on which the mechanized man stood as the only way out. His unnatural, rhythmic respirator preceded him and his black cape whipped sharply in the breeze that arose from the water.

Hasler sensed what he was. She even knew his name. She studied him, seeing the webbings of the Force layered in cold dark patterns around him. _So,_ she thought. _It’s happening._ She fingered a dial at her waist, summoning the full might that her pirate royalty allowed, and at the same time signaling emergency evacuations across the planet and the entirety of the system. _But it’s happening too soon._ She had seen this before. She knew it was supposed to happen months from now. Or, she _thought_ she knew. Somehow the timeline had accelerated. _Always in motion, the future is,_ she heard her former Jedi teacher, Yoda, saying in her mind. And damn it if he was right. She didn’t like to be proven wrong, especially not by _Jedi_. Her ability of foresight had well and truly failed her if she didn’t see the Empire arriving in her system right under her nose.

“You will come with me,” said the machine-man’s augmented voice, which held a threatening power and cadence. “It can be simple, or painful. I suggest you choose wisely.”

Then, klaxons began to blare throughout the fortress. Far behind the Sith Lord, submersed platforms arose from beneath the ocean, some of which were starfighter launchpads already unleashing Hasler’s defense squadrons by the dozens into Bygone’s amber skies. Those other platforms housed anti-air turrets and weapon batteries. All around the fortress and across the system she knew her queendom was awakening.

But in her moment of power, she felt her knees wobble suddenly as she felt the life energy of Etreskl fade and pass into the Force. _Etreskl,_ she thought. It wasn’t yet his appointed time. He wasn’t supposed to die until—

Tesran was in danger. She could feel the echoes and reverberations of his struggle. He, too, was dealing with an adversary. _Ardr_ , she knew. _Good, then my vision hasn’t altered entirely._ Ardr was not a Sith himself, but one of their pawns: An Inquisitor. However, _this_ man — this machine — was most certainly a Sith Lord. The apprentice of Darth Sidious. _The Chosen One_. As a prophet herself, she regarded Jedi prophecies as literal viewports into the future, and the one regarding the Chosen One had always been on her mind:

_Only through sacrifice of many Jedi will the Order cleanse the sin done to the nameless._

_The danger of the past is not past, but sleeps in an egg. When the egg cracks, it will threaten the galaxy entire._

_When the Force itself sickens, past and future must split and combine. A Chosen One shall come, born of no father, and through him will ultimate balance in the Force be restored._

Yes, Hasler was very familiar with the prophecy of the Chosen One. It accurately foretold the fall of the Jedi, and if the rest of it proved to be true, then she was staring into the mask of the man who would change the very face of the galaxy.

She looked toward the machine-man, setting aside her grief over Etreskl’s death for another day. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” she said, reaching out with the Force to probe his mind. _Could this cold being really be Anakin Skywalker?_ She wondered what fate, what tragedy and treachery could have befallen him for him to have changed so radically in such a short amount of time. To set him on this dark path of destiny.

As if perceiving her thoughts and finding them offensive, the Sith Lord reached out a gloved hand toward her, and the moment she felt the Force begin to coil around her neck, she swatted her hand downward as if to slap away a fly. “No,” she stated defiantly and the machine-man’s outstretched hand dropped to his side unexpectedly as if it had been yanked. She summoned the Force about her, fortifying herself against any more of his attempts to ensnare her with his dark powers. 

“If you deign to take me,” she said, widening her stance and opening her arms toward him. “You’ll have to try harder.” 

The blade that extended from his lightsaber was crimson as blood. 

The Pirate Queen, smiling with anticipation, began to remove her earrings as the Dark Lord marched toward her. With her eyes closed, Hasler began to rotate her hands, gathering the Force. Suddenly, the long polished driftwood table between them lurched, the end closest to her flipped upward and slammed downward onto the dark lord. Plates, glasses, dining ware, pots, vases, and chairs flew in every direction as if the room had been caught in a thermal detonation.

Hasler knew she could not defeat her foe. For now, she could only waylay him while the others escaped. Her hand extended and her old lightsaber, tucked away in an unseen pocket, flipped into her hand and ignited lightning blue.

____________________________

HE-R0’s small dome head swiveled left and right, scanning. Sindr carried Koda as they dashed through the hallways toward his and Tesran’s room, while the little droid floated on her repulsorlifts beside them with her shock-claw and blaster extensions fully charged and ready to use. She had been commanded to protect Koda by her master, and so there was no other task or programming that was more important to her now. To prove it, her blue photoreceptor turned red as she entered kill mode — and right on time.

A clone trooper appeared in the corridor to their right. HE-R0’s arm flexed, aimed, and fired. The point of impact along the clone trooper’s white plastoid armor blackened as he fell. Another appeared beside him. Again, HE-R0’s arm flexed, aimed, and fired. The trooper went down, all life signs pointing toward death.

Sindr was unarmed and he and Koda were vulnerable to blasterfire, which meant HE-R0 was all they had. She was their first and last line of defense.

A trooper appeared to the left. HE-R0’s arm flexed, aimed, and fired. The clone went sprawling across the marble. Sindr bounded over the corpse. HE-R0’s audio sensors detected booted footfalls behind him. Her head twisted in one-hundred-eighty degrees, as did her blaster arm, which flexed, aimed, and fired sequentially three times, and three clones hit the floor, dead. But then three squads appeared to replace their fallen comrades, and blasterfire filled the corridor. Ozone and heat shot past them, and Koda maneuvered her body in front of Koda to act as a sort of shield.

Before they could turn the next corner, a brigade of Hasler’s security droids emerged from hidden doors. One of them lowered its blaster arm as Sindr ran in front of it and passed through their line of defense into safety as the other droids opened fire on the troopers.

At the very last moment, a lucky shot blasted HE-R0’s dome, and her red eye turned blue then faded as all functions ceased. The blaster bolt she took would have killed Koda had she not positioned herself between him and the shot. 

Her last thought as her processor failed was that her master would be proud of her.

****_______________________________

The Jedi’s forearms bulged as he caught the enemy’s lightsaber against his own, stopping its rotation. Red and blue sparks shot outward from where the points of opposing energy collided. Tesran grunted with the effort, feeling the impact travel from his hand, through his elbow, and up his shoulder. This _Red Brother_ was strong and well-trained in the Jedi arts, almost familiarly so, though he could sense his adversary’s discomfort in his armor, as if he wasn’t entirely used to wearing it or fighting from within it. It slowed him down, which served Tesran well, who was bare-chested, wearing only light flowing linen pants that was the fashion on the islands.

With their blades locked, Tesran side-stepped, then deactivated his lightsaber suddenly, causing the resistance against Red Brother’s downward force to vanish. The red blade abruptly stabbed into the floor where Tesran stood milliseconds before — hisses and sparks scattered along the marble. This opened the armored foe up for attack, and Tesran’s lightsaber reactivated as he plunged it deep into Red Brother’s shoulder — or would have, if Red Brother hadn’t gathered Tesran’s lithe form up with the Force and thrown him forty meters through a glass window.

The shards of glass opened Tesran’s back in a flurry of blood, and he felt himself falling, falling … until he enmeshed himself in the Force, allowing it to stabilize his stance in midair seconds before his feet sank into the sand. It wasn’t a perfect landing; he toppled backward, the sand stinging his fresh abrasions. Before he could get back on his feet, Red Brother leapt through the window and landed in front of him, his knees bending to absorb his weight. He rose to his full height while the outer rim of his strange lightsaber rotated at a slower rhythm.

Still on his back, Tesran defensively pointed his lightsaber at his foe.

“The Inquisition stands ready to bring the remnants of the Jedi Order to its final conclusion,” said the vocoded voice of the Red Brother. “Kirak Infil’a. Jocasta Nu. I wonder …” He pointed one of his double blades at Tesran. “…Who is next?”

Tesran did a lightning-fast kick up, transitioning from a supine position directly onto his feet, then delivered a series of three equally swift lunge attacks that forced Red Brother to take one step backward as he parried each of the three blows. This allowed Tesran breathing room. “You’re lying,” said Tesran. “You have no intention of killing me.”

Red Brother was silent.

Tesran glimpsed fleeting images and impressions of Red Brother’s mind. “You’re here to take me back to Coruscant.”

His enemy’s lightsaber began to spin faster. “The Emperor has need of you.”

“Darth Sidious, you mean,” Tesran said. “But that’s not why.”

“Why what?”

“That’s not why you have no intention of killing me,” said Tesran, his lightsaber deactivating. He reattached it to his waistband and folded his arms across his sweaty, muscular chest. “You’re not going to kill me because … you know me. And I know you.”

Red Brother’s modulated voice hissed with anger and followed it up with a strike directly toward Tesran’s neck. But the whirling blade froze millimeters away, and Tesran could feel the lightsaber’s heat against his skin.

“ _Ardr_ ,” Tesran breathed fearlessly, knowing the bond between them would keep him safe. “I put away my lightsaber, you can do the same.”

For a while a silence grew between them. Above them in the upper atmosphere were sounds of starships blasting each other to oblivion. In the immediate skies, Imperial V-wings chased down pirate starfighters. The entire star system appeared to be embroiled in conflict. Tesran and Red Brother stared at one another all the while until at last the crimson knight spoke.

The red lightsaber deactivated. “How did you know?”

Tesran tried not to scoff, but it slipped out anyway. “We’ve been sparring since we were younglings, are you kidding?” He gave his friend a smirk. “Besides, remember that one time you threw me out of one of the windows in the Padawan dojo?” Tesran pointed up toward the window he had been thrown out of. “You know how long that fall was? I was having serious flashbacks.”

Oddly, Red Brother didn’t laugh. Ardr used to always laughed at his jokes. Truth was that Tesran hadn’t seen Ardr more than a few times since the Clone Wars started, and not at all after what happened with Ardr and his master. On the battlefront, Tesran had heard rumors of a Jedi that had accidentally killed his master. It was only later that he learned it was Ardr who had done it. Evidently his friend had completely lost all sanity. He never wanted to believe it. How could any Padawan kill their master, accident or not? That bond was sacred. More than sacred. Tesran thought of Das Vu Sae as more than just his master. She was like a mother figure to him — even more so than his own mother. Nothing could rival that bond.

“The war was rough,” Tesran stated, more relaxed now that a lightsaber wasn’t being held to his neck. “I heard you got the worst of it.”

Ardr hadn’t moved, and though his lightsaber was deactivated, he still gripped it tightly in his hand.

Tesran turned toward him. “There’s so much I want to tell you, about who you really are—”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Ardr shortly. “I’ve made my decision. The Jedi shunned me and punished me for something I had no control of. I loved my master. And when I told them that, you know what they did?”  
Tesran shook his head. “I’m sure Windu had something sour to say.”

“They went from asking me if I hated my master, to declaring that I loved him too much. They were going to sweep me under the rug. Palpatine offered me something more.”

“I had my own disagreements with the council and the role the Jedi had in the war,” Tesran said. “But I’d never ally myself with the Sith. The dark side feeds on cruelty and fear. How does any of that help? You’re better than that, Ardr.”

“Vengeance can feel good,” Ardr said. “Really good.”

“The thirst for vengeance is a symptom of personal pain,” Tesran said, repeating an aphorism his master commonly used. He stared into the black slits of Ardr’s helmet. “Take off your helmet, Ardr. Take all of that off. It’s not you.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Tesran said. “I _know_ you can.”

“…No.”

“Your older brother would love to meet you,” Tesran said. “He’s wondered about you his entire life. And your nephew is the sweetest kid. My son, Koda.” A sudden smile played on Tesran’s lips. “You and I are family, Ar. We’re more like brothers than we ever thou—”

From the broken window above them, a streak of green plasma struck Ardr’s crimson suit, breaching it, and taking him to the ground. The smell of ozone and burnt flesh filled the air, and when it cleared Tesran could see the blood gushing from Ardr’s wound. He looked up and saw Sindr in the window with his energy bow, pulling back on its string for another shot.

“Sindr, no—!” Tesran shouted, but it was too late.

Yet before the blast landed, Ardr’s lightsaber activated and spun as he lay on his side, deflecting the bolt into the sand. In that moment, the _Silverdark_ careened through the lower sky, drifting a little on its repulsorlifts as it came to float and then land between the fortress and the beachhead. At once, Sindr strapped his energy bow to his shoulder, scooped Koda into his arms, and ran at full sprint toward the ship between them. 

This was his cue. He reached his hand toward Ardr who lay wounded and bleeding in the sand. “Come with us,” Tesran offered. “Leave it all behind.” But Tesran could tell that Ardr wouldn’t. For whatever reason, he wouldn’t budge. “We’ve been always been best friends, Ardr,” Tesran tried. “But now we can be family. You, your brother, me and Koda.”

“Tesran!” Sindr was yelling from the _Silverdark_ ’s boarding ramp. “Come on.”

He looked back toward Ardr.

“Daddy!” he heard Koda’s voice. 

A squadron of Imperial V-wings roared overhead.

He could feel Ardr’s physical, mental, and spiritual pain. Yet something inside Ardr resisted: Fear. Tesran sensed that he was afraid of something. But before he could voice his reassurance that Ardr didn’t have to worry about that anymore, Imperial bombers began to strafe the shore with ordinance. Sand and water sprayed in every direction, throwing Tesran and Ardr apart. The pain of the blast and of his previous abrasions from the glass doubled, and when he found his footing, he started running toward his ship. He loved his friend, more than a Jedi should love anyone, but he would choose a future with his family rather than risk that future to save his fallen friend, no matter how much it hurt.

_____________________________

Tesran flew up the ramp and brushed Sindr’s shoulder affectionately as he passed. “Koda?” Tesran asked him hurriedly, slamming his fist on the ramp’s mechanism within the ship’s corridor, causing it to hiss shut. They rushed toward the cockpit and Tesran slid into the captain’s seat. In the rear part of the bridge, HE-R0 had one of her arms plugged into the _Silverdark’s_ navicomputer. The droid seemed badly damaged and barely functioning. In fact, her blue eye kept flickering on and off and her repulsorlifts barely kept her afloat.

“I’m here, daddy,” Koda said, appearing behind them. To his credit, Koda looked unafraid. On edge, maybe. But so was Tesran.

“Good,” Tesran breathed, flipping switches and overrides as HE-R0 gave the ship’s controls over to him. The yoke felt reassuring in his hand as he pulled the starship off the sand and into the air. “Heero? You okay, friend?”

HE-R0’s beeps and boops were filled with static. Not a good sign.

“She took a shot for Koda,” Sindr said.

“Hang in there, girl,” he told the droid. “Sin, strap in next to me. Ko, strap in back there, nice and tight.”

“What do you need me to do?” asked Sindr, staring blankly at the console full of knobs, switches, and levers.

“Sit there and don’t touch anything.” Then Tesran gave Sindr a wink, knowing that he didn’t like feeling useless. “If I need you to press a button, I’ll let you know.”

Sindr sat up straighter, eyeing the various buttons. “I wish Ebindr was here,” he muttered. “Tharroc don’t have buttons.”

“Your feathered fox friend wouldn’t stand a chance against V-wings and Star Destroyers,” Tesran said. “Trust me.”

Tesran began scanning the communication frequencies but found them all jammed. “Karabast,” he said under his breath.

Sindr gave him a funny look. “Kara-what?”

“Karabast,” explained Tesran. “It’s a—”

“A bad word!” Koda said from the back. “Just like kriff, scrag, and f—“

“—Hey, potty mouth, if you want to keep going with that you better be ready for the consequences.” Tesran powered up the deflector shields. “Now let’s focus. We need to find Hasler and get the hell off this ball of sand.” He banked the _Lancer-_ class corvette hard right, its wide saucer shape slicing easily through the wind, and dropped back beneath the clouds. The fortress appeared beneath them in the viewport. It was a gigantic structure, but using the Force he directed his feelings toward it — the chaos that greeted him was no surprise. There were many personnel still inside the fortress trying to evacuate, and all around them were Bygone starfighters dogfighting with Imperial V-wings.

And then he felt something cold. Something … familiar. It was the same cold feeling he had during his escape from the Jedi Temple when he came face to face with his old friend, Anakin Skywalker. The one who that day was revealed to be a servant of the new Empire. And it was coming from the royal dining room. As the ship descended at a steep angle, the dining room’s open veranda revealed a stunning battle:

The Pirate Queen fighting off a dark-armored opponent, blue lightning-crackled lightsaber pitted against the red of the other. She was fighting in a style Tesran briefly glimpsed in her duel with Tesran a week prior; it was languid and fluid as it was elegant, utilizing the agile angles of her body to twist, rotate, and bend like water. Hasler thrusted her saber forward while throwing her head and back in the opposite direction, and when the dark-armored foe parried it, she melted into her knees and came in low with another lunge, clipping her opponent’s armored shin.

Her foe seemed to barely notice the glancing blow as he swung his lightsaber with focused precision, but Hasler danced away and drew herself up in time to ward off another strike, and another. Tesran could tell her foe was more than her match in terms of raw strength, so instead of catching each strike directly with her lightsaber, she redirected them and dodged.

How long these two had been fighting Tesran could not say, but he could tell Hasler was tiring. Fast. As they became clearer in the _Silverdark’s_ viewport, Hasler’s adversary backhanded her across the face, sending her reeling several meters backward across the floor. Despite the furious strength of the disorienting hit, Hasler _still_ managed to dance back onto her feet — but in her disorientation, her left foot caught on a fallen chair and her menacing opponent not only hacked off the wrist of the hand carrying her lightsaber, but in a second strike, removed her arm at the shoulder. 

Her left hand, arm, and lightsaber hit the ground.

Disarmed and mangled, the man in armor ensnared her with the Force.

Her feet suddenly dangled beneath her as she was lifted into the air. Her remaining hand clutched helplessly at her throat. Tesran, having experienced it before, suddenly knew who the armored man was. _Skywalker._

As the _Silverdark_ sped ever closer to the battle, Hasler, suspended in the air, was suddenly enveloped in a blinding light that overtook the entirety of the veranda. Even with the light-reducing shaders of the ship’s viewport, the bright blast caused Tesran, Sindr, and Koda to lift their hands and arms to shield their eyes.

_____________________________

“MOTHER!”

The flash of light was gone, revealing an empty veranda except for Anakin. Hasler had vanished. Just like she had in the dojo with Tesran. Tesran leaned into the Force to aim, then smashed his thumb down on the yoke. The _Silverdark_ opened fire on the dark armored figure of the man that was Anakin Skywalker.

The impact of the ship’s gunfire blew detritus, chairs, and tables into the air and the dark assailant disappeared into the plume of dust and obliterated sandstone. The _Silverdark_ slowed its downward descent and leveled out at the last moment, coming down hard on the veranda, the ramp already extending. Above them, a Bygone starfighter exploded in flames and shrapnel clattered against the _Silverdark’s_ hull, sounding like rain.

Suddenly Hasler was there seemingly from nowhere, limping up the ramp and into the belly of the ship. She threw her lightsaber down as she fell forward onto her remaining arm.

Sindr had already unstrapped himself to go aft and help Hasler, but the Pirate Queen drew herself up on her own feet, pushing off with her left hand until she was standing once more, then staggered her way into the cockpit. She was haggard and pale. Her right arm was completely gone, severed at the bone. It was a gruesome sight, and stank of charred flesh; a scent Tesran had smelled far too much of during the war. Injuries inflicted by lightsabers instantly cauterized the wound it made, causing terrible pain.

She sank into the co-pilot’s seat beside Tesran, leaving Sindr to strap in beside Koda in the back of the cockpit. “We need to get away from that monstrosity,” Hasler growled. 

“On it,” Tesran said, angling the starship back into the air.

“Break atmosphere so I can tight beam my captains,” Hasler breathed, wincing at her shoulder. “Do we have a tactical readout?”

HE-R0’s arm cranked the datasocket bringing up a holomap that projected above the console. It had the latest scans of ally and enemy ship positions. The first thing Tesran noticed was that the Bygone Pirates were outnumbered five to one. Two _Venator-_ class Star Destroyers blockaded the planet’s upper atmosphere, preventing any ships from escaping. Luckily, many of the refugee transports leaving the planet had already made the jump before the blockade was formed, but even as they watched, one wayward transport that came into range of the Destroyers was obliterated in less than thirty seconds.

A third Destroyer was engaged with three pirate cruisers and taking a heavy beating, while several Bygone-allied frigates, corvettes, and one heavy cruiser jumped into the system to render support. They appeared to be heading straight for the two Destroyers.

Further toward Bygone’s moon, the mobile space station — the _Tall Lady —_ was besieged by a single Destroyer. According to the scans, the station’s shields were enduring, but only just barely. They wouldn’t last long out there, and all those refugees inside were in danger. The Destroyer positioned itself between the station and the hyperspace lane, keeping the station from jumping to lightspeed.

Hasler seemed short of air as she panted. “There,” Hasler said, pointing outward through the viewport. A nearby transport was lifting from the ground. “Stick with that ship. We’ll use it as cover to get past the blockade.”

Tesran wasn’t surprised to know his mother would sacrifice a ship full of refugees for her own benefit. In the war, he placed his life below that of everyone else. He had been willing to sacrifice his own safety, and his own life if need be, so that others might live, and he had done so without hesitation many times. But now, with his family on board, he found himself unable to object to his mother’s plan. It wasn’t a very Jedi thing to do, placing his own needs above others — but then again, neither was falling in love and having a baby.

The _Silverdark_ eased toward the refugee transport as they neared the two Destroyers, and Tesran maneuvered the ship so that it was between them and incoming fire.

“Their shields won’t last long enough to slip through the blockade,” Tesran said. “All those people are going to die.”

Hasler was growing paler by the second. “Those people aren’t you,” she said shortly. “That’s all that matters.”

“She’s right, Tesran,” Sindr said from behind them, surprisingly agreeing with her. “We have Koda to worry about.”

From the rear cockpit, Koda said, “Master Yoda wouldn’t like this….”

Tesran’s jaw clenched. But before anything could be done about it, the small cadre of allied pirate ships burst into action, assaulting the blockade at full force. The Destroyers redirected their focus on their assailants and the _Silverdark_ and the transport slipped right through. The moment they were clear, the transport vanished into hyperspace. According to the scanners, five more transports were still rising through the planet’s atmosphere hoping to make their escape.

“We should stay and assist your allies with this blockade,” Tesran said.

But Hasler shook her head wearily. “No,” she said, using her left hand to work the comms. Her right shoulder moved as if it were working her right arm, but the arm wasn’t there. She cursed in frustration and used her left instead. Her skin was becoming as white as snow — whiter than even Tesran’s old Umbaran master.

“Mother?” Tesran eyed her worriedly.

“Head toward the station,” she said weakly. “We need … to rally … my captains.”

___________________________

Commander Rigor of the _Venator-_ class Star Destroyer, the _Pursuance,_ stood rigid in front of the wide viewports of his command bridge, arms clasped in front of him, while he observed the battlefield with his own eyes. The holodeck behind him projected a full readout of the immediate engagement area, but he already knew the attack on these scummy pirates was well in hand. Today, Commander Rigor would demonstrate to the Emperor just how much more effective a non-clone could be at warfare. Behind him in the floors of the deck, two crew pits full of clones were at their stations working tirelessly at his command. _Soon_ , Rigor thought, _very soon, their kind will no longer be necessary._

In front of him, the pirate space station known as the _Tall Lady_ was putting up an admirable defense, but there was no hope of their shields lasting another ten minutes. In this game of attrition, the victor would be the one with more patience and better armaments, of which the Empire had endless amounts. The _Pursuance’s_ full compliment of one-hundred-ninety-two V-wing fighters and thirty two ARC-170s were besieging the station’s shields, and however powerful those shields might be, they would yield under the combined efforts of Rigor’s starfighters and the _Pursuance’s_ weaponry.

“Commander, we have incoming,” said one of the clone lieutenants in the crew pit.

Rigor turned askance. “Incoming?”

“Enemy reinforcements, sir.”

The tactical holo zoomed out to reveal two dozen ships heading his way, big and small, and from every possible direction. “Where did they come from?” he asked, almost to himself, but the clone must have heard him.

“They must have launched from the moons,” the clone answered. “And from nearby asteroids.”

“So,” Rigor grimaced, then stood straighter. “They had ships in hiding. Very well, they want a battle, so be it. All starfighters fall back into defensive positions, and move us out of weapon’s range from the station, but keep us positioned in a way that prevents the station from jumping to lightspeed. Send a transmission to Lord Vader’s flagship.” He turned to the viewport and grinned mercilessly. “We, too, have a hidden ships to bring to bear. We’ll crush these pirate—”

The _Pursuance_ suddenly lurched, its metal groaning, and Rigor almost toppled over. The Destroyer seemed to be suddenly listing in the wrong direction. “Report!”

“Sir,” a clone answered. “We … it seems we’ve been caught in a tractor beam.”

“Impossible,” Rigor spat. “They don’t have a ship with a tractor beam _powerful_ enough to pull a Star Destroyer—”

“It’s not just one tractor beam, sir,” said the clone officer. “Their entire fleet is pulling at us.”

Rigor’s eyes widened as he realized what these filthy pirates were planning. They were moving the _Pursuance_ out of the way, so that….

He wheeled around toward the viewport just in time to see the _Tall Lady_ launch into hyperspace. 

“No!” he shouted, running forward in vain to pound the viewport with his fist. Moments later, the pirate fleet angled toward the same direction the space station had jumped, and each of them began disappearing into thin lines. Luckily, however, there were still some pirate ships left to attack; the ones who were stalling the other Destroyers so that their outlaw friends could escape. Commander Rigor had failed, and now he was angry. Those pirates remaining would be made examples of. 

Yet, if the Emperor’s right hand, the one the other officers were calling ‘Darth Vader’, was correct, then they knew exactly where the escapees were headed. Rigor glanced at one of the clones. “Alert the auxiliary fleet,” he said. “Tell them their prey is en route.”


	9. Dark Arrival, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bygone is besieged; Tesran and family mount a desperate escape; Bresaln is brought to an ancient, foreboding temple.
> 
> Update: 12/23/19 -- I retconned a few things in this chapter but nothing major. Mostly for continuity and polishing purposes. If you've read this chapter before, I would suggest re-reading it.

CHAPTER NINE  
DARK ARRIVAL, PART II

The sky had grown dark and grey though it was only midday and there were no storms on the horizon. The sun shone warm and bright one moment, and in the next, the sun was gone and the winds became cool and abrasive. Even Uldr seemed to wrap around Bresaln a little tighter as they flew. Around them, the formation of Windriders drew in closer so that they might communicate better with hand signals and raised voices. Uldr looked toward the leader of the Torn Sor Kaa who flew towards his left. The old man pointed downward, indicating they should descend. The Presark nodded.

What was disconcerting was that there was no ground. Below them was an endless milky mist that was moist on the skin and thick to fly in. Bresaln felt as if he was breathing water. With every breath, he thought his lungs were filling with it. Some time later — to Bresaln, it seemed like ages — they began to see shapes appeared before them: Tall, organic stalks that grew from some unknown distance below, swaying in the thick air, though in this place there was no wind. It reminded him of seaweed; damp looking plants that grew dozens of meters apart, allowing the tharroc to bob and weave through them. The plants swayed as if caught in the flow of a river or an ocean tide. 

This place was unlike anything Bresaln had ever heard of on Kaasar. He thought somehow he had been transported beneath the waves of some distant unknown water planet.

As they flew, many of the Windriders began to disappear. Uldr and the others were alarmed and soon horns began to sound from everywhere and nowhere at once, signaling caution. Uldr’s tharroc swooped down with the others, following the giant seaweed plants — trees? — toward the surface. So big were the growths that a tharroc could easily land on one, but the sopping, moving texture of the plants was altogether unnerving for the tharroc, who refused to fly too closely to them. 

It was a strange thought, but Bresaln felt as though the tree-plants were alive with some deep unknowable menace.

When they landed, scouting parties of tharroc riders were sent out to try to find those that were lost in the milky mists, while a temporary camp was formed around Uldr. An effort was made to start a fire but there was no kindle nearby to burn, only the mud beneath them and the writhing tentacle plants that grew from it. In the end, fire crystals were brought together and stacked to provide warmth. Several other fire crystal stacks went up throughout the camp to warm the clusters of idling soldiers, while Uldr and the Torn Sor Kaa were huddled together whispering in a heated debate. Bresaln kept close to the warm glow of the crystals. The pains of his overburdened womb came and went, though it had slowed in the recent hours. He found a rock to sit on, as his legs had become overtaxed easily. His son inside him — that heavy, moving mass — kicked painfully at his ribs.

He clutched at his womb, trying to pry the baby away from his battered ribcage. “We’re safe,” he told his unborn child. “We’re safe, don’t worry.” But Bresaln wondered if he was saying it mostly for his own benefit.

He found himself thinking of the mess he found himself in. His fathers had been pleased to make a royal consort out of him, and Bresaln, too, had been excited about the prospect of sharing a bed with the royal blood sons, and even more so of carrying and birthing their heirs. He had to remind himself that he hadn’t accounted for Uldr’s cruelty. Besides, the whole point of becoming a royal consort was to have the opportunity of rising to the heights of Prime Consort; the favored and respected _hacron_ of the Presark-King himself. If he could become Prime Consort, he would be given more power and more prestige.

“I can’t believe he brought you along,” said a voice. Bresaln turned towards a young man his own age, strong and muscular, with an energy bow in hand. His jaw was straight and defined, and his lips were parted slightly. His dark eyes looked Bresaln over, lingering on his rune-painted stomach. “If you don’t me saying, it looks like you should’ve given birth a couple of months ago.”

Bresaln smirked if only because of how true it was.

The Kaasari warrior’s eyes widened slightly as Bresaln’s entire stomach jumped at his laughter, and then shifted to the right and outward from within. “He’s moving?”

The consort gently held his belly. “My belly jumps when I laugh, and sometimes he doesn’t like it.” 

Nodding with wonder, the man seemed unable to stop staring at Bresaln’s stomach, until he at last pried his attention from it and back toward Bresaln’s eyes. “I’m Deln,” he said, and the two men clasped forearms in greeting.

“I remember you,” Bresaln said darkly. “You were with Hagare … after the assassin tried to kill Uldr. You and Hagare dragged me down into the dungeons.”

Deln looked ashamed. “I want you to know I felt bad about that. And I tried not to handle you carelessly, for the sake of your baby.”

Thinking back on it, Bresaln remembered that one guard was less forceful than the other. He palmed either side of his belly. “Well, we thank you for it.”

“Still,” Deln said. “I can’t believe he brought you here. It’s not safe.”

Bresaln looked around. “And it’s not very warm, either.”

Suddenly, Uldr was there among the Torn Sor Kaa. Many others began crowding around them and Bresaln gave Deln a last smile. 

“We must continue on foot,” said Uldr above the din. “The Torn say we are in Ravgr’s final resting place, a land sunken to time. I agree that flying any further is too dangerous. Our scouting parties will be returning soon, and when they do, we will press on.” Then he drew his voice up into something more regal, and held aloft a pyramid-shaped object in his hand. The object contained a dull red glow as if the red light was trapped inside. “Ravgr’s Key has been found after it had been lost for over a decade, giving us the opportunity for this sacred pilgrimage. which has never been done in the millennia since our God-King’s death. I will do as no Presark has done and open Lord Ravgr’s Tomb! We will beseech his spirit to bless my reign, and in doing so, our people will prosper in a new age of glory.”

The Windriders began to cheer and chant, yell and dance all at once, raising such a raucous that even Bresaln almost seemed convinced that this was a good idea. Yet, in his heart, he had a _very_ bad feeling about all of this.

When the scouts returned, they brought ill news: The lost Windriders remained lost. Over half of the Windriders themselves were gone, bringing their total number to less than fifty. Still, they went forward on foot, taking their tharroc’s reins in hand and leading them into the seaweed-stricken landscape. When asked, one of the Torn told Bresaln that the massive plants were called ‘Ravgr’s Hands’, and that long ago, Ravgr created them to protect his secret domain which existed far from Kaasari civilization. The mist and the plants were meant to dissuade travelers from venturing here, and it was said that chimeric monsters roamed the land, guarding their sleeping master.

None of that made Bresaln feel any better as he rode atop Uldr’s tharroc as one of the handlers led the beast forward on foot. And when, in the thick gloom, a towering ziggurat structure appeared before them, he somehow felt worse. The entirety of the massive structure looked as if it were made with dark glass, for it mutedly reflected the grey light of its surround, giving it an ethereally ominous cast.

“Lord Ravgr’s Tomb,” declared the leader of the Torn Order, and immediately everyone started whispering and offering prayers at the sight of their fallen God-King’s resting place. Bresaln believed in their deity just as much as the next person, but this place felt wrong. Not holy. Not pure. Not divine. 

It felt wicked.

As they came closer to the ziggurat’s massive slanted wall, Uldr stepped forward with Ravgr’s Key, and the Torn guided him to a section of the stone wall where there was a triangular indention. The Key fit perfectly inside it, and the entirety of the ziggurat began to moan and shake. Bresaln could feel the vibration in his chest, and then: A burst of red light, bright as the sun, beamed violently upward from the ziggurat’s apex like a spear extending toward the heavens.

The blast nearly knocked Bresaln off of his mount, but he managed to cling to the reigns and the saddle. Everyone, including the Uldr and the Torn, were flattened into the mud as the blast forced them backward.

The seaweed tree-plants bent in the blast of energy that overcame the sky. The mist cleared, revealing a trillion stars in the night sky. Yet, even as Bresaln, recovering from the shockwave, peered at the beauty of those stars, they seemed to be swallowed whole, millions at a time. But not by clouds; by weather that was outside of the planet’s atmosphere. Some sort of solar storm was spreading.

Only when the stars were entirely absent from the sky, did a door into the ziggurat open.

Together, Uldr and the leader of the Torn Sor Kaa entered.

“He’ll come back to you,” said Deln, appearing next to him. “Don’t worry.”

“What?” Bresaln asked.

Deln placed a hand on Bresaln’s shoulder. A hand that was supposed to be comforting. “Your _hacron,_ ” he said. “He’ll return to you safely, I know it.”

Bresaln wanted to laugh. This poor man had no idea. No idea at all. “I hope he doesn’t,” Bresaln whispered. 

“You shouldn’t say that aloud,” Deln whispered.

Bresaln shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

The warrior looked at him askance. “What don’t I understand?”

It took a lot of willpower not to answer that truthfully. The fact was, Deln could very well be a spy for Uldr. Bresaln knew he shouldn’t overstep, for his own sake and the sake of his child. Instead, he said nothing.  
Deln’s eyebrows tilted sadly, and the man’s hand found the small of Bresaln’s back for only the briefest of seconds. “I think I understand,” he whispered. “If you need me, I’m here for you.”

Their voices were less than whispers now. “Why … why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m Deln of Hornhawk,” he whispered. “I’m a servant of your fathers.”

Bresaln’s heart backflipped inside his chest and for the first time in weeks, he felt safe. Absolutely. Safe. Even here, in this horrible place.

______________________________________

The swirling blue tunnel of hyperspace was comforting. It meant that, yet again, they had avoided certain death. And this time, Tesran and his family were not alone in their escape. There were other ships soaring through hyperspace all around the _Silverdark;_ the Bygone survivors fleeing from their home. Like Tesran and Koda, they were some of the very first victims of a burgeoning Empire.

“You should come,” Sindr said from behind. His strong hand squeezed Tesran’s shoulder affectionately.

“Hm?” Tesran turned toward him, staring up into the most handsome face he had ever seen. His face reminded him of Ardr’s. There was no doubt the two were related. _How can I tell him he shot his brother?_ he thought.

“Come on,” Sindr said.

Tesran gave the ship over to autopilot and tore himself from the bridge, following Sindr through the narrow corridor of the ship. One of the doors opened, and within the room was an old man laying atop one of the sleeping cots. Gathered around him was Hasler, who was barely able to stand, wearing one of Das Vu Sae’s old ponchos she must have found in his master’s closet. Koda was there, too, his small body almost lost within Tesran’s bomber jacket. Jedi weren’t typically allowed possessions, but Das and Tesran’s closet aboard their ship contained many necessary disguises, clothes, and outerwear for almost any environment or situation. 

Lastly, HE-R0 sat on the bed, her blue eye blinking. The poor droid was so damaged she could barely hold her head up. Tesran had a feeling she wouldn’t last much longer without exhaustive repairs.

Laying peacefully on the bed was Etreskl with his staff resting beside him.

Tesran and Sindr joined them quietly. No one spoke for several minutes until Koda said, “He was my grandfather?”

Hasler looked down at the boy sadly, but said nothing.

“He was,” Tesran said, picking up Koda so that he could see Etreskl better. He felt so light in his arms. “But I didn’t know him that well. I wish I did. In these last days, I was glad to be able to spend time with him. He told me how he loved the sea, and when I saw him swim, I thought for a moment he transformed into a fish. A grey-haired, tattooed fish.” Tesran took in a breath of air in an attempt to hold back tears, but the effort was in vain as he said, “He told me: ‘For every ebb there’s a flow; for every flow there’s an ebb. The full moon must wane just as the new moon must wax. Happiness … turns to sorrow; sorrow is reborn as hope.’” Tesran sniffled and wiped his tears away with his free hand, while the other clutched Koda a little tighter. “I didn’t know him well, but I knew that he loved me. I could feel it. And I still feel it.”

Sindr brought both Tesran and Koda into a hug, and the feeling of his forehead pressing against Tesran’s temple was more comforting than any calming mantra the Jedi had ever taught him. “His spirit lives on in the afterworld,” Sindr said to him. “He’ll continue guiding you. Always.”

Tesran nodded, drying his eyes. “There is no death, there is the Force. And the Force is with us.”

“The … Force?” Hasler’s voice was barely audible. “The Force … failed me. It has failed us all.” She shifted lethargically on her feet and for a moment she swayed as if she would fall, but she steadied herself with her remaining hand against the wall, and then staggered out of the room.

Before the boys could react, HE-R0 began to whine as her photoreceptor dimmed and her antennas drooped weakly. Tesran could hear her servos whinging and giving out as she reached her hands toward him, as if she wanted her master to save her from the darkness of her dying processor. Tesran caught her before she could sag limply onto the bed beside Etreskl, and in that moment, she was gone.

Koda began to sob, crying into Tesran’s shoulder.

Das Vu Sae’s faithful droid served closer to her masters than any droid should be allowed by a Jedi, but HE-R0 was special. She was brave, heroic, and determined to help in anyway she could. She helped them escape the temple on Coruscant, and before that had saved both Das and Tesran’s lives more times than they could count. In the end, she gave her own life to save Koda’s. If she hadn’t, Tesran and Sindr would be mourning their son right now alongside Etreskl. The thought was horrible to consider, and yet they had HE-R0 to thank.

“I’ll bring you back,” Tesran told her, cradling her noodly, lifeless head in his hand as he laid her gently to rest. “I promise you.”

An hour later, just when Koda had been soothed to sleep by his two loving fathers, the starship shook violently and dropped out of hyperspace hours ahead of schedule. The ship’s interior lighting began to flash red, indicating imminent threat. The hyperdrive’s failsafe would activate if they were entering an unstable hyperlane or attempting to pass through a dangerous space anomaly. Rushing to the cockpit, Tesran and Sindr were joined by Hasler in the corridor, and when they looked through the viewport they saw the unimaginable:

An entire Imperial fleet.

Destroyed.

Tesran and Hasler sank into their seats and switched off autopilot just in time to avoid vast swathes of debris fields caused by the fleet’s destruction. All around them the other Bygone starships were being peeled out of hyperspace, and each of them veered in every direction in order to avoid catastrophic collisions. 

“What in the hell happened here?!” Tesran yelled, twisting the starship’s control yoke in his hand as they spun out of the way of a splintered command deck from a _Venator_ -class Destroyer.

Hasler seemed entirely shellshocked.

“Mother?” Tesran asked to no response. “Mom? Hello?!”

“The Shifting Nebula,” she stated, her eyes focused on something distant through the viewport. “It came too early. We’re locked out.”

“Uh, Mother, you’re not making any sense,” Tesran said. “The Shifting Nebula? You mean the one that surrounds Kaasar?”

She pointed, and his eyes followed, and he saw a tidal wave of darkness rolling through the debris, lifting and carrying broken ships on its swell. “The nebula is pulsating with the dark side,” she said. “It’s unleashing a Force storm.” She opened comms to all nearby ships. “This is Hasler, all captains initiate Protocol B.” With a series of inputs Hasler sent new coordinates out to her fleet and began spooling up the hyperdrive for another jump. 

One of the transports closest to the _Silverdark_ was suddenly smashed by a wayward chunk of a battlecruiser. A thousand refugees were wiped out in an instant. 

“Jump!” she said.

Tesran angled the starship toward the nearest hyperlane. “Now or never.” He cranked the lever and the blue lane of hyperspace opened. When they were safe, he turned toward Hasler. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

The pirate queen leaned forward on the dash with her elbow and began rubbing her face as if to soothe a headache. “In my vision, we jumped from Bygone to Kaasar with the enemy on our tails, and it was only after we safely arrived that the Shifting Nebula flared up, creating a barrier between Kaasar and the rest of the galaxy. We would have been safe on Kaasar for years, outside of the Emperor’s reach.” She shook her head with frustration. “But everything’s been accelerated, somehow. The attack on Bygone should have been months from now. Not today. The timetable is off course.”

“So we can’t go to Kaasar?” Sindr asked, becoming slightly frantic. 

“Not unless a path opens up through the nebula,” she said. “But it could take years for the storm to stabilize.”

Sindr slammed his fist down onto the back of Tesran’s chair.

Tesran put his hand on Sindr’s. “We’re gonna figure this out.” He looked at Hasler. “What’s Protocol B? Where are we going? Where are you taking us?”

She looked at him wearily, then turned to go aft. “Somewhere safe,” she said.

__________________________________

The Windriders and the Torn gathered from a distance to watch their Presark-King emerge from the darkness of the ziggurat carrying an object in his hand. He seemed different. His walk had a confident swagger to it, and his chin was proud and forward. His naked body, glistening with sweat, shone red in the beam of light that still shot from the temple’s apex into the darkened stars, which broiled with red lightning. With the temple silhouetted behind him, Uldr wrapped both hands around the object and lifted it.

With a hum, three red fires extended from his hands. Two beams emerged laterally with one longer primary beam pointed toward the sky.

“Behold,” Uldr shouted to his people. “The God-King’s saber! The weapon of Lord Ravgr, given to me by the God-King himself, so that my rule shall never be questioned! Today begins a new age for Kaasar. One that demands absolute loyalty to its Presark, and death to all who oppose me.”

Bresaln, as he listened, was suddenly beset with labor pains so powerful that it brought him to his knees. He felt warm wetness between his legs. His knees shook before giving out and he collapsed into the mud. The first to Bresaln’s side was his new friend, Deln. The Torn Sor Kaa surrounded him as the pains in his belly sent ripples of tension through every muscle of his body. It felt as if he were being torn apart from the inside.

Then, suddenly looming above him, was the Presark-King with his new toy in hand. He stared down at Bresaln with such loathing that for a moment the consort thought he might be the blade’s first victim in a thousand years. Instead, Uldr gestured for him to stand. With help from Deln and the Torn, Bresaln slowly rose to his feet. “My heir will be born inside,” he said, pointing toward the temple behind him with his red-fire saber. “He will draw his first breath in the presence of Lord Ravgr’s tomb so that he will be blessed from the moment of his birth until the end of his days.”

Bresaln screamed as Deln and the Torn helped him up on his his feet and carried him through the temple’s entrance. The pregnant Kaasar’s feet dragged beneath him as he was taken into the dark.

Behind them, Ravgr’s Key — the red holocron — sank into the pedestal seemingly on its own accord. No one seemed to notice.

For several seconds it was pitch black until Uldr reactivated his cross-shaped flaming sword, illuminating the triangular shaped tunnel stretching before them in shades of red. Runes were inscribed along the walls from top to bottom — runes different than the ones the Torn Order used, but similar in a way. Deep within the temple below their feet something shuddered.

Uldr stopped. “What was that?”

The wizened elderly leader of the Torn Sor Kaa, the man who replaced the one called Etreskl the Mad, stood forward. “Perhaps it is Lord Ravgr himself expressing his displeasure at our presence,” said Gulgadu. “I advised against our coming, my lord. The God-King did not want this Tomb to ever be disturbed by mortal hands. It is written. And not only have we disturbed it, but you have taken Ravgr’s saber.”

Another old servant of the Torn came forward. “We may have taken the saber from its resting place, but now we have a chance to return it,” he said, beseeching his Presark. “Please, my lord, let us quickly put it back and remove your consort from this sacred place. No mortal should ever enter here, let alone be born here!”

With an electric hum, Uldr swung his new toy furiously at the old servant and cut him from right shoulder to left hip. The man fell in two pieces, and the stench of it brought fresh vomit from Bresaln’s stomach. The twelve remaining members of the Torn Sor Kaa went silent, and each of them bowed their heads.

“I will hear nothing more of that,” Uldr growled. “I have Lord Ravgr’s ear, he speaks to me alone. It was he who gave me permission to take his sword. I am his chosen Presark, and I will not be questioned again.”

Bresaln doubted all of that. The threat of the long dead God-King was a tool for Uldr to use, nothing more. Uldr himself had admitted it to Bresaln some months ago. There was no way Lord Ravgr was speaking to anyone, let alone a man as pathetic as their Presark.

There was another rumbling beneath their feet like boulders clashing together. Clouds of dust sprayed from the ceiling, and then all around them the runes along the walls began to glow red, casting them all in foreboding crimson. Each rune pulsed with inner light. At the same time, another pain flooded through Bresaln’s belly. He clutched its round mass and groaned as he felt the baby lurch downward. It felt massive. Too massive. Bresaln began to panic. How was he ever going to birth something so large?

“My lord,” said Deln, clutching Bresaln tighter to keep him standing. “I’m afraid we’re running out of time. Your consort—”

“Yes, yes,” Uldr snapped. “Let’s go. The glowing runes are a good omen for my son’s birth. Lord Ravgr must be pleased.”

Slowly, Bresaln continued forward. He could feel the weight inside his pendulous belly dropping lower between his hips. Every step was agony. He was about to say he couldn’t go any further when the tunnel opened into a vast cavern. The runes from the wall were etched upon every surface, every wall, every corner. Those along the floor, however, turned into long lines with accented with geometric patterns, and every line led to the center of the room, across two bridges — one bridge in front of them, and the other on the far side of the chamber — where the geometry took shape into a hexagonal island. On the hexagonal island was a pedestal, and beside it, a coffin lit by the same red runes with strange tubes dangling from the ceiling and connecting to it.

“It’s changed,” Uldr said in a low tone. “The God-King’s tomb is glowing red.”

Gulgadu stepped forward to survey the large chamber. “I sense that you should put the holy weapon back on the pedestal, my lord,” he stated. “Before his wrath consumes us all.”

Uldr would have cut the old man to pieces if Bresaln didn’t scream so loudly, causing more dust to plume from the pyramidical ceiling’s apex.

“He’s coming!” Bresaln shouted, falling to his knees. The baby’s head was sinking deeper into his pelvis, bringing new pain with it.

“Get him closer to the tomb,” Uldr commanded, striding forward to cross a narrow bridge that connected the outer walls with the hexagonal island in the middle of the chamber. “I want my son to bask in the presence of his divine forefather.”

Each of them crossed the bridge three at a time until they were all gathered before the tomb. Uldr turned to Bresaln with a wide grin on his face. “Now, at last,” he said. “You have my permission to give birth.” The temple again shook and Uldr glanced up at the apex of the chamber uncertainly. “…And be quick about it.”

Deln turned to one of the Torn. “Give me your cloak,” he said.

“How dare you,” said the man. “I am a sworn brother of the—”

“—Don’t care,” said Deln. “He needs something other than a stone floor to lay on, and to swathe the baby in.”

“He is right,” said Gulgadu, his dark robes swirling about him as he turned toward his brother. “Do it.” 

The Torn reluctantly gave up his cloak and Deln laid it on the ground, then helped Bresaln to lay down on his back. His pendulous belly stuck straight up into the air and Bresaln felt the weight of the baby inside him moving even further down. Gulgadu parted Bresaln legs to check his progress, bringing his knees up and back. Deln turned away to give Bresaln at least some privacy. Bresaln would have thanked him for that if another pain hadn’t seized his belly. He felt the unstoppable desire to push even though the baby had yet to crown. It was close though, Bresaln could feel himself widening as his body pushed his son further and further toward the outer world.

Uldr observed Bresaln’s spread legs and began to laugh. The cackle echoed menacingly through the stone chamber. “It comes out the same way it went in,” he said amusedly. The crimson light on his body and face gave him a cruel countenance. He knelt beside Bresaln and pushed a strand of dark, sweaty, muddy hair from Bresaln’s face, and then laid his hand on his equally sweaty stomach. “You’re so beautiful when you’re in pain,” he said softly. “You deserve it after what you did to me. Any other time, I would have commanded these old goats to prolong the birth so that you’d be in agony for longer. But this time I want it to be quick so we can get out of this cursed place.”

With his hand, Uldr suddenly began to pushed downward on Bresaln’s pregnant belly. The baby lurched closer to the womb’s exit, which began to burn as it was stretched by his son’s head.

“He’s crowning,” announced the Torn.

There was yet another rumble, this time larger than the others, and suddenly the room went entirely black. 

Everyone vanished. 

Uldr. Gulgadu. Deln. The Torn. 

Everyone was gone.  
  
___________________________

Bresaln screamed as he held his legs apart himself, feeling the baby descending further and further, and the hot stabbing flare of pain as his son’s massive head spread him apart. He heard once that elsewhere in the galaxy other species had what they called ‘women’, and that it was they who gave birth. How he wished they had these ‘women’ here, so that he would be spared this horrible—

The pitch dark room was lit again, but not by red runes.

By stars.

The hexagonal lines and geometric symbols was lit beneath them, yet there was no floor. Bresaln thought he might fall through, but it seemed the invisible floor was solid somehow. They were not inside the tomb anymore, or at least to Bresaln it didn’t seem like they were. Had he been transported, somehow? Had he been thrown into the stars? Was he dead? No, he was in too much pain to be dead. Bresaln turned his head left and right, up and down. He found there to be little else here in this strange place but endless stars and the red lines and polygonal shapes upon which he was laying on.

“Help me!” Bresaln shouted anxiously. The pain was too much. He hadn’t expected to be doing this alone. “Someone….”

“ _I am with you_ ,” said a disembodied voice.

Bresaln craned his head toward the voice’s origin. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

“Wh-who are you?” 

“ _I am Ravager,_ ” it said. Its voice was unnatural and broken, as if there was some sort of disconnect between words and syllables. “ _How have you come to be here?_ ”

Bresaln panted in pain. “He brought me here. The Presark. Presark Uldr.”

“ _The heir?_ ” it asked. “ _Yes, I see him. A blood son. But I sense …_ ” Ravager paused, and his voice grew cold. “ _Weakness. He is not the heir._ ”

Bresaln screamed in agony, but this time, it did not echo. The stars seemed to absorb his voice. The baby’s head wasn’t moving. It was stuck. Bresaln collapsed backward, his quivering legs still in their air.

“ _Your child yet has potential. Not as my heir, but as a sacrifice. Will you offer him to me?_ ”

“N…never,” Bresaln choked the words out as he strained.

The sharp pains threatened to knock him out, but Bresaln kept fighting, kept pushing, until at last the hid slipped forward and the shoulders began to emerge. The hard part was over. With one last heave, his son was born in a gush of blood and fluid, which slipped through the invisible floor and fell away into infinity amongst the stars. In a moan of relief, Bresaln caught his child as it slipped from inside him and held him firmly against his chest. 

“ _Very well_ ,” it stated. “ _I will take another instead._ ”

Bresaln wiped his sweaty hair from his forehead. “Are you truly the God-King? Are you Lord Ravgr?”

“ _I am he,_ ” he said. “ _But you pronounce it wrongly. I am Darth Ravager, scion of the Sith Empire.”_

Bresaln ripped the umbilical cord with his teeth, spitting out the blood and unsavory taste, and began to wipe his son’s face clean with his hands. 

“ _My holocron has been returned to me,_ ” continued Lord Ravager. “ _It’s chronometer has logged a thousand years of passing. This is not meant to be. The locus sustains my body in the Vergence Scatter, as intended, but I meddled in what I did not understand and have been trapped here._ ”

Suddenly a man stepped out of the stars. He was fully cloaked in robes of shadow so that no part of his appearance could be seen.

“ _Your life force is not bound here as I am,_ ” he said, approaching the new father slowly. “ _It seems in your pain and desperation, you accessed the Force and were subsequently brought here by the locus. I can send you back_.” The cowled figure of the God-King stopped in front Bresaln. His presence felt cold and menacing. A chill scraped along Bresaln’s spine. “ _Release me and I will reward you infinitely with whatever your heart desires._ ”

Bresaln shivered as he held his son close against him. “If I do, will you kill him? Will you kill Uldr?”

Darth Ravager’s arms reached towards his head, slowly lowered his hood and unveiled his face. Bresaln’s eyes widened at the man he saw.

“ _Gladly._ ”

_______________________________

Red Brother knelt before the Emperor, knowing full well what was coming. There was a price to pay for failure, and he would undoubtedly pay it. But the situation could still be salvaged in his favor.

“I would be surprised if you were to punish me without punishing Lord Vader, Your Highness,” said the Red Brother through his helmet’s vocoder. He was afraid. And that fear made him speak irrationally and against his own better judgment. But maybe he could salvage this… “I failed in my task, and he failed in his.”

Darth Vader’s respirator filled the silence. Although Red Brother was positioned so that he could not see the Emperor’s expression under his dark cowl, he could hear a faint amusement in the man’s voice. “How shrewd of you to think so, Red Brother,” said the Emperor’s graveled voice. “Yes, it seems punishment is in order … but not for Lord Vader, who was outplayed by a conniving foe with powers even I underestimated.” Ardr could feel the glare even without looking. “You, however, were outplayed by a former friend. My high hopes in you have begun to erode quicker than I would have liked. You disappoint me.”

“I forswear,” Red Brother’s head sank lower. “That I will never fail you again.”

The Emperor leaned forward in his chair. “I delivered you from the Jedi, who sought to subvert your future for a mistake you had no control over. Your repayment to me for this virtuous act has, thus far, been nil. Yes, you are the key to a powerful legacy,” said the cowled man. “But if you continue to prove inept, I will find other ways to achieve my goals.” 

The eyes of the Emperor shifted. “Lord Vader, what remains of your auxiliary fleet?”

“Nothing, Master,” Darth Vader answered. “The Nebula surrounding Kaasar has rebuked our entry. I believe it to be a Force storm.”

Moments passed at sublight speed — much too slow. The Emperor’s hands folded together tightly. “How _interesting_ ,” he stated slowly. “The disturbance in the Force grows and the mystery thickens, yet I feel as if Kaasar’s secrets are now beyond our reach. At least for the present moment.”

“What is thy bidding, my master?” Darth Vader asked.

“We will keep watch over the Kaasari system and, if we cannot probe our way through it, we will wait for an opening in the storm,” answered Palpatine. “In the meanwhile, we will widen our search for the pirate Hasler Jak and her Jedi son. They will have fled to the Outer Rim or beyond, but perhaps not out of reach entirely. The Inquisitorious shall be alerted. Meanwhile, Red Brother, I can no longer trust you with any further tasks dealing with your former friend. You are to be reassigned.

“I am aware of your skill with various types of armaments. You enjoy combat, much like Lord Vader. This has not been overlooked. I am preparing a new cadre of elite troopers specifically trained to hunt down Jedi. They will be in direct command of the Inquisitorious. You will assist your brothers and sisters in their training, and when the time is right, they will assist you in your hunt for the Jedi survivors.”

“I will obey,” Red Brother stated.

The Emperor clawed his hands together and wore a tight grin. “I sense your unhappiness with this directive. That is good. You _should_ be unhappy … your _failure_ to bring me the Jedi has revealed _much_ about you that is left wanting.”

Ardr’s supplicated himself before the Emperor so low that his red helmet touched the floor. “Forgive me, my Emperor,” said Ardr. “I will strive harder to please you.”

The Emperor steepled his hands in front of his deformed face and began to cackle. “You will,” he laughed. “Or you will die.” His macabre laughter continued even as Ardr was dismissed from the chamber. As he marched back toward the fallen Jedi Temple he felt the sting of his shoulder wound. The energy bolt had struck the muscle and singed the nerves, making every movement send sharp, shooting pains through his arm and up his neck. But what stung worse was that it was his own brother that shot him. 

He had gotten his first real look at his brother and his nephew. Ardr didn’t know what to do with that. Tesran offered him a place among his family, and it had been that temptation, and their friendship, that caused him to fail in his mission. And he had lost the favor of the Emperor because of it.

There was only one answer now: Earn the Emperor’s favor again, no matter the cost, so that he could find Tesran and his family and finish his mission. Feeling a renewed sense of duty and loyalty, Red Brother slid into his private speeder just as it began to rain. The bright colors of Coruscant’s night lights were condensed into the tiny raindrops on the speeder’s domed glass as he sped home toward the temple.

When he was alone in his old chambers he used in his former life as a Jedi, Red Brother peeled off his damaged armor and was relieved to be free of it. Standing naked and alone, he summoned a medical droid to attend to his wounds. As it doctored him, he stared out of the small window in the wall, feeling more alone and isolated than ever before. He remembered when he had tried and failed to take his own life, and how he had found himself in the temple’s hospital bed. He remembered how the Supreme Chancellor’s visit had filled him with hope.

He saw now that it was all a lie. He had been manipulated into serving the Sith because he allowed his anger toward the Jedi to cloud his judgment. The Jedi treated him badly in the end, but the Sith were treating him worse. But there was no going back now. Ardr made a choice, and a bad one, but there was no swimming against the riptide. If he wanted to live, the only option was to surrender to it.


	10. Interlude I: Order 66

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Execute Order 66

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/181679790@N08/49200428006/in/dateposted-public/)

 

 

 

** INTERLUDE  
Six days before Order 66 **

The _Silverdark_ smoothed out over the landing pad, its twin ion engines whirring as it settled heavily on its legs. It had seen action for many years, but more so since the advent of the Clone War, as evidenced by the carbon-scored and modestly dented silver-and-black gleam of its hull. The ship had taken Jedi Master Das Vu Sae and Jedi Knight Tesran Hunt (and their droid, HE-R0) through battle after battle, and now it had returned them safely home to Coruscant.

Master Vu Sae, an Umbaran with milk-white skin, snowy hair and silver eyes, cycled down the ship’s systems with her nimble, pale hands. She stood — thinner than she had been in years since the galaxy had been divided by war — and hurried to the back of the starship where hydraulic pistons hissed and the boarding ramp unfolded onto the tarmac of the landing pad. HE-R0 dutifully floated and bobbed after the Jedi Master as she descended from the ship where a team of medical droids overseen by a Jedi doctor were already waiting below with a medical capsule at hand.

The Jedi Master joined the greenish-yellow alien doctor on the ground whom procured a smile and a comforting touch to the Jedi’s shoulder. “The Temple’s medcenter stands at the ready, Master Vu Sae,” she said in a thick off-world accent. “Do not worry for your friend, he is in good hands.” While they spoke, the two of the medical droids ascended the ramp with the capsule to collect Vu Sae’s fallen friend.

Das  straightened her back and … felt suddenly tired. It had been a trying few months and an even more trying few years. “Thank you, Nema.”

Together they watched the two med droids guide the repulsorlift capsule down the plank with her former Padawan learner inside. He was no Padawan anymore, that was for sure. The smiling, blonde youngling she had promised her friend all those years ago she would train was a man now and an accomplished Jedi Knight. The stretcher drifted by and Vu Sae almost could not bear to look at him; to remind herself of the failures — partly her own — that had led to Tesran’s marooning on an Separatist-controlled planet where he managed to survive, alone, for an entire standard month; a survival that came at a heavy price.

She walked in silence beside Tesran for a while, following the doctor from the outside landing pad into the Temple Hangar where engineers and technicians were working on several gunships and starfighters. Not long ago this hangar had been bombed by a terrorist — a Jedi idealist who had grown angry at the Order for how it was handling the war. Six Jedi died in the blast as well as many Temple personnel; more victims of a dark era in the Republic’s long history. Everyday this war was claiming countless lives and affecting trillions more.

As they entered the inner halls of the Jedi Temple, Das Vu Sae looked down at her comatose friend; at his mangled, charred flesh. Had he not been rescued when he did he would be long dead by now. 

Tesran was twenty-one years of age, with hair the brownish-blonde color of wet sand. He had a quick smile and a sense of humor that would warm the most Hothian of hearts. As the war dragged on, Tesran’s smile was seen less and less, as were his quips and light-hearted demeanor. This troubled the Jedi master. Happiness and joy — these were traits that came naturally to the bubbly human, but lately it seemed as though a black cloud had come to rob him of the sun. The war was changing Tesran, she knew. It was robbing him of his joy.

Over a decade ago, Das Vu Sae observed younglings training with practice sabers in the courtyard of the Temple. Of them all, a small human child’s skill with the blade drew her attention. The young boy was Tesran Hunt, the child of her friend, Hasler Jak Hunt. The very same child that she would, in time, select as her Padawan at the behest of his exiled mother. 

Tesran beat his Nautolan peer to the ground, deactivated his blade with a kind smile, and helped his friend to his feet. He went on to duel several others, winning again and again until his next match pitted him against a particularly pale Kel Dor with the breathing mask and goggles that one of his species would have to wear in an oxygen-rich environment such as Coruscant.

Under Grand Master Yoda’s watchful gaze, the human and the Kel Dor squared off before the tree in the courtyard, and Tesran lost the duel within the span of a dozen seconds. Das Vu Sae could sense the pride surging through the young Kel Dor victor, and from Tesran she sensed not anger, or resentment, or jealousy — but a deep, abiding admiration for his opponent. He got to his feet, brushed himself off, and _smiled_. Though it was his skill with a saber that first drew her eye, it was his ability to smile even after being defeated that she found most impressive.

After the training session ended and the initiates were sent on to the next class of the day, Master Yoda raised his green eyes to the slender, pale Umbaran as he leaned on his gimer stick. “Chosen a future Padawan learner have you?” the little green Jedi Master asked in his grumbling tone. The little grey wisps of hair on his wrinkled head blew freely in the open air. She wasn’t surprised Master Yoda had sensed her choice; the tiny green alien seemed to know everything.

“I believe so, Master,” said Das Vu Sae, cupping her chin between her forefinger and thumb in quiet reflection.

“The boy, Tesran, you have picked.” Yoda had an uncanny way of sensing things unspoken. “Ready he is for the Gathering. When returns with his crystal, to you I will send him.” The Gathering was a sacred rite of passage for younglings. They would be taken to a planet in the far reaches of the galaxy to find kyber crystals to create their first lightsabers with. Kyber crystals were what powered a Jedi’s weapon, and each one was unique and had the ability to bond with its chosen Jedi. 

It had been ages since Das had undertook the rite, and seemed like only yesterday when the young blonde boy had returned with his. That little boy had since grown into a wonderful Jedi, hardened by his trials and tested by war — a war that, like many other Jedi, Tesran strongly objected to. They had long discussions about the merits of the Clone War, of how Jedi were meant to be peacekeepers, not generals of a grand army; how the Confederacy of Independent Systems and the Republic should sit down with one another and facilitate a lasting peace by any means diplomatic means necessary. Tesran’s strong objections gave her cause for alarm, for in the emotions of his words she sensed a willingness on his part to abandon the order. She alone knew her Padawan better than anyone else in the galaxy. It wasn’t hard to read his longing for a normal, uncomplicated life. And she knew, buried deep in his heart, he still yearned for that boy on Kaasar; the one who had borne him a son.

It seemed uncanny that her friend Hasler had a child despite her vows to the Jedi Order, and that her son had done much the same years later. No doubt Tesran carried much of his mother’s spirit inside of him, whether he knew it or not. And he would likely never know, as Das Vu Sae had promised, against her own moral code, to never say a word to Tesran about her friendship with his mother.

Yet Tesran never left the order despite the temptation of it. He fought on and on smiling less and less, participating alongside Das Vu Sae in many decisive battles across the theaters of war. His mind always seemed be somewhere else, no doubt with the family he felt like he abandoned. They had spoken of it only once in the five years since they were reassigned from Kaasar, but Das sensed there was an unspoken longing for Sindr hidden in Tesran’s soul.

The bond between Master and Padawan was legendary, and not unlike that of a parent and child. Despite the Jedi Code forbidding attachment, it was almost impossible to prevent the powerful connection that naturally formed between master and apprentice. When Tesran’s starfighter had gone down over the enemy world, Das Vu Sae had done everything in her power and authority to locate him, but the battle for Hexxis had turned against them and Republic forces had no choice but to retreat. That decision to pull back had proven harder to make than even she could admit; to willingly leave behind the boy she had tutored and bonded with since his boyhood. After reinforcements arrived a standard month later, Das Vu Sae led several warships back to Hexxis and won a narrow victory, rescuing Tesran in the process. But by then it had almost been too late. 

That boy was of course fully grown now, with the slightest dusting of facial hair that had slowly thickened into what most humans might find impressive. Many human males were much the same at his age; slightly too sure of themselves, overconfident in their knowledge and skill, not at all serious enough, and far too pleased with their strange ability to grow hair on their face. He was thin but honed as only one could be by a lifetime of training. The young Jedi had come into his own in these last few years since earning his knighthood. If war was a forge, Tesran had entered the furnace and come out again deadlier and sharper than ever— as evidenced by his month-long survival in enemy territory. Not many Jedi could have accomplished such a thing, but Tesran was a survivor. 

He always had been.

___________________________

Presently, the Jedi Temple was emptier than usual except for temple staff, younglings, Jedi instructors and those Jedi in between missions. The Outer Rim Sieges and the conflict at large had spread the Jedi across the stars, leaving the temple almost hauntingly skeletal. 

Doctor Nema ordered the droids to continue toward the medical center and then turned to the Umbaran. “Master Vu Sae, there’s no reason to accompany us to medical. He must undergo surgery before we can place him into a bacta tank for long term recovery.”

“Long term?” she found herself asking.

“A week at most,” she said. “The burns on his body are substantial, but he will make a full recovery with minimal scarring from the burns.”

Vu Sae tucked her chin. “Then may the Force be with you both.” She bowed her head and watched the doctor and Tesran’s stretcher disappear around the curve of the hallway.

HE-R0 came to perch on Vu Sae’s shoulder with her tiny tentacle-like arms and turned her blue eye to focus on the Jedi Master. She _bleep-blooped_ a question.

“Thank you, Heero,” she said, turning to pat the droid’s smooth metal head with the back of her finger. The droid purred and quivered on the Jedi Master’s shoulder, then with a tiny pincer, gently tucked a strand of Vu Sae’s opulent-white hair behind her pale ear. 

The droid beeped quietly in response.

“Come, my friend. We must meet with the Council. They will want to know about the developments at Hexxis.”  
  
**________________________________**

** Order 66 **

Das Vu Sae meditated in Tesran’s medical room for so long the motion sensors turned the lights off after a few hours, mistaking the unmoving Jedi as nothing more than furniture. She saw many things in her meditation, however vague. Her visions and the ability to interpret the will of the Force had become more and more clouded the longer the Clone Wars dragged on, and she was not alone in this. Even the Grand Master of the Jedi Order himself had reported that the dark side had stymied his ability to sense the future. That Yoda, wizened from over nine-hundred years of life (most spent in service of the Jedi Order), was being affected by the war was highly disconcerting.

Had the war done this? Or was there something else — some _other_ cause — that was clouding her clarity?

She meditated, wondering if Tesran and some of the other Jedi were right; that maybe the Jedi’s participation in this galactic conflict had been a terrible mistake. What if the reason the dark side’s rise in power was owed not only to the reappearance of the Sith, but to the Jedi’s inclusion in the battles that had engulfed the galaxy? The order ‘fought for peace’, yes, but wasn’t that in itself an oxymoron?

Das Vu Sae’s vision became frazzled and her breathing grew fitful — so much that the room’s motion detectors toggled the lights.

She was suddenly enveloped in chaos: visions flew past her mind’s eye faster than she could comprehend, leaving behind only fragments: a blue lightsaber slashing, children screaming, a baby crying, a blue light bleeding red … swamp water trembling. She sagged forward, her hands stretching out to catch herself on the floor, but the floor vanished beneath her hands and she free-fell into a gaping abyss; down, down, down, down into a chasm beneath the Temple where something dark bubbled and frothed like trapped air in blackened sludge. She saw more: a red kyber crystal the size of a planet’s core.

A voice called to her.

A light appeared above, and Das Vu Sae emerged from her nightmare with a jolt. Bewildered by her vision, the thinly-built Umbaran leapt upward, bounded from the ceiling with her feet, and launched herself to the opposite side of the room, silver lightsabers igniting in both hands like starlight.

“Master Vu Sae!” cried the urgent voice, quickly finding that the sound belonged to her old friend, Jedi Master Shaak Ti, whose red and white colored face measured the Umabaran with cautious surprise. The Togruta’s striped montrals were curved upward like a pair of gentle mandibles, and from them hung headtails similar in appearance to a Twi’lek’s lekku. Her simple brown robes were cinched by a utility belt where a lightsaber hung, though she made no effort to reach for it. Instead, she raised her arms and opened her palms in a token of peace. “My friend, come back to me. You are in no danger here.”

Almost as quickly as they ignited, Das Vu Sae’s silver lightsabers deactivated and she tiredly stowed them away, bowing deeply to her fellow Jedi Master. “Forgive me, Ti.”

“We are all on edge this night.” Shaak Ti nodded once and offered a short smile. “I sensed your distress as I walked by. I should have been more gentle in rousing you.” Her voice was smooth-flowing, accented. Vu Sae sensed that she was using the Force to create a moving current of tranquility through the room, a technique used to set trouble hearts at ease. The Umbaran often used to the technique herself, especially on her Padawan when he was younger, and she held back a sudden wave of embarrassment having it used on herself. 

They joined each other at a nearby table and sat as Das composed herself. Shaak Ti was one of twelve Jedi sitting on the High Council, and Das felt like she owed an explanation for her outburst. Clasping her forehead with her fingers, she explained her vision and waited for the patient Togruta to respond.

After some thought, Shaak Ti gently shut her eyes. “The images you saw are disjointed, unfocused. Should you choose to reflect on them again, you should concentrate on how they are connected, if at all.” She turned her dark violet eyes toward Tesran who remained under sedation inside the blue-tinged liquid of the bacta tank. “Many Jedi are reporting to have disturbing visions as well, each just as nebulous as yours.”

She was relieved to know she wasn’t the only one. “But what do they mean?”

The Togruta interlaced her hands upon the table. “That we must trust in the Force ever the more.” She nodded toward Tesran. “It could also be that the injury of your former Padawan has deeply affected you. Remember: you are his mentor and friend. The war continues, and you cannot allow whatever fate befalls him to sweep you into darkness.”

Vu Sae felt as if a giant, overweight bantha was standing on her head; that at any moment it would grow too heavy for her neck and snap it in two. “For most of my life I have always been in tune with the Living Force. I have been given the ability to interpret dreams and premonitions with remarkable clarity, but suddenly I feel as if my connection with the Force is being … strangled. I feel it speaking to me, but I cannot seem to grasp it. Perhaps Master Yoda is right. Maybe the shroud of the dark side continues to thicken.”

“I, too, feel the approaching storm,” she said, reaching her red hand out to clutch that of the milk-white Umbaran’s. “Even now I feel its winds.”

“If only Yoda were here,” said Das Vu Sae, abruptly feeling an unquenchable desire to see her master again, but he was leading the battlefront with the Wookies on Kashyyyk.

“Master Windu is also away,” Shaak Ti frowned. “I wish I could be more help to you, my good friend.”

“Has Mace gone off-world?”

“He and a few others went to the Senate Building. While you meditated, we received word that Master Obi-Wan has brought an end to General Grievous,” said the Togruta slowly. “Mace and the others have gone to ensure Chancellor Palpatine returns his emergency powers to the Senate.” She stiffened slightly when she added: “Where it belongs.” 

“Grievous? Dead at last?” Without Grievous the Separatist forces would collapse and the leaders of the Confederacy of Independent Systems could finally be rounded up and brought to justice. It would bring an end to the long, drawn-out Clone Wars for good. “But … why do I not feel relieved as I should be?”

Shaak Ti stood and placed a hand on Vu Sae’s shoulder. “Join me in meditation. Perhaps together we may yet unravel the mysteries of your vision.”

Vu Sae rubbed at both temples of her forehead, trying to relieve the tension building within. “I could not meditate any longer if I tried. I think right now I need rest.”

“Of course, dear friend,” Shaak Ti said and turned to exit the room. She paused at the door and turned her head toward her peer. “I know the Outer Rim Sieges has taken a toll on many returning Jedi. Rest is best, I think. May the Force be with you.”

Managing a smile, she said, “And with you, Ti.”

With a solemn nod, Shaak Ti disappeared from the room in a swirl of robes; two friends parting ways forever. Hours later, as darkness churned all around them, an attack was led against the temple. Feeling the Force shifting and reeling from the overflow of the dark side, she went to Tesran’s bacta tank and activated the sequence that would drain the tank and awaken him from sedation. Hopefully when he was awake, they would be able to face the coming darkness together. 

She placed her hand against the glass, looking into the closed eyes of her Padawan. She saw the boy he once was, and the man he had become and felt pride surge through her.

“May the Force be with you, Tesran Hunt,” she said quietly. “May it be with us all.”


	11. Coming 2020....

If you've enjoyed the story so far, or have any questions, suggestions, etc, I'd love to hear them.  
Thank you for reading. Act II will arrive in 2020.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a comment, kudos, or critique. Kind, constructive remarks give me a huge creative boost! Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
